


Liar

by nostalgic90s



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Childhood Trauma, Delusions, Destroying Childhood Memories, Emotional Manipulation, Emotionally Repressed, F/M, Hallucinations, Heavy Drinking, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Lies, M/M, Masturbation, Misconduct of medical staff, Murder, Psychological Torture, Schizophrenia, Self-Denial, Self-Hatred, Temporary Amnesia, Torture, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-28 00:50:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16713358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgic90s/pseuds/nostalgic90s
Summary: So I always wondered how Jeremiah got a hold of Jerome's diary. All he says is: "I found his diary", and I'm sitting here thinking.... Well how does that work if Jeremiah NEVER left the maze bunker? This is my theory and I wanted to gift it to a fellow writer who also shares a few similar theories on the whole dysfunctional relationship between Jerome and Jeremiah.Named the story after a song, I insist you give it a listen (it's a youtube link). The eerie melody was literally on a loop the entire time I wrote this. Sometimes you don't need catchy lyrics, the music speaks for itself as does the chapter.Enjoy~





	1. Liar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rowenaaine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowenaaine/gifts).



Artist: Lucas King Piano

Song:[Liar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6IrJzEQLKHE)

 

* * *

 

It had been three days since Jerome Valeska’s passing and Gotham was still reeling back from the egregious events the redhead triggered. Left in the wake of destruction, Gothamites struggled for a sense of normalcy. It came easier to some, switching back to a mundane lifestyle while city contractors worked on fixing the devastated roads and buildings.  For others, whom were traumatized by Jerome, they have a difficult time trying to implant themselves back into daily routines. Parents, young and old, try their best to comfort the children who witnessed Jerome’s violence in the streets.

Nightmares, a constant state of paranoia, apprehension, Jerome Valeska stole more then one person’s sense of security and they’d be haunted for the rest of their lives.

One such person, Jeremiah Valeska, was one of the few who couldn’t shake Jerome’s presence. Every day he saw his twin’s marred up face with that inhuman, sinister smile, and his gravel deep voice cackled away in the back of his head. It was frustrating and he wished he’d gone with Ecco…. Being the kind boss he is, Jeremiah insisted his proxy take time off and travel to Switzerland. He already purchased her plane ticket and arranged for travel once she arrived. Ecco couldn’t refuse, she would never refuse Jeremiah, but she did ask him to go with her. Not wanting to ruin a good time, he declined the offer and dropped her off at the airport the very next day.

Ecco left without saying a word. She understood Jeremiah needed time to himself to process what happened between him and his brother, and perhaps, come to terms with Jerome’s death. She didn’t call until she arrived safely.

The two exchange texts here and there but it appeared Ecco was enjoying her time off, and for that, Jeremiah was grateful.

Alcohol became his main source of sustenance, that and the occasional slice of whole wheat bread. If he consumed enough alcohol, he could drown Jerome’s voice out. Sometimes drinking didn’t work, he was forced to endure Jerome’s laughter and it would bring back unpleasant memories, memories that made Jeremiah scream out in agony. With it came torrents of anger and repressed emotions he didn’t want to accept. As a result, fits of rage overcame him and he would break things. God knows how many glasses he shattered against the wall, followed by slamming a chair into his desk and throwing computer monitors onto the floor. At one point, he took a hammer and smashed every single monitor and screen because he couldn’t fucking stand the sight of his reflection. It was Jerome staring back at him, sneering and taunting him from the grave.

Mornings greeted him with unpleasant headaches, upset stomach, and a work space that was completely obliterated. After a hot shower and numerous painkillers, Jeremiah set to fixing up his office. He had the money to purchase new computers and monitors, including a new desk and chair. He cleaned up the papers, re-filed them, and repaired some of the torn blueprints. Thankfully, he had a good memory and could re-draw everything he destroyed.

During their evening phone calls, Jeremiah never mentions the fact he’s had to purchase new furniture for his work space and living room. Having dedicated her life to Jeremiah Valeska, Ecco knew when he was hiding something. His overzealous responses and awkward laughter indicated he wasn’t well.  She didn’t push him for lengthy answers or details, clearly Jerome’s death had an effect on Jeremiah. She wanted nothing but happiness for her employer and friend. When she returned, she could get Jeremiah back on track to healthy diet and routine.

On the fourth day, Jeremiah received two unexpected phone calls. The first call was from Bruce Wayne, who wanted to meet up and go over some legal paperwork. Jeremiah was naturally ecstatic, he thought the boy was exceptionally clever for his age and oh so valiant. Jeremiah wasn’t brave, he acknowledged that detail with a bitter taste in his mouth. They set a date – that made the man’s heart flutter a little- for next week. After wishing each other a pleasant remainder of their evening, Jeremiah ended the call and smiled at his cell phone. Work would be a nice distraction from the troubling thoughts stirring inside his head…. It took Jeremiah fifteen years, _damn it Jerome_ , to move on from his life at Haly’s Circus. Be it another fifteen or thirty, Jeremiah could now remove his sibling out of his life –

Permanently.

The second phone call came later that evening, close to 10:00pm. Not recognizing the number, Jeremiah let the call go to voicemail. He sat behind his desk, glass of whiskey in hand, and was reading the newspaper.

After five rings, the cellphone fell silent.

Jeremiah lowered the newspaper and glanced down. The voicemail icon was flashing on and off. “Hm….” Curious, he set his reading material down and picked up the phone. He entered a sequence of numbers to unlock it and went about to checking his voicemail. With the phone against his ear, Jeremiah listened.

An unfamiliar voice, a woman, spoke. _“Good evening Mr. Valeska, my apologies for disturbing you late at night. I work the evening shifts and one of the nurses promised me she would contact you at a decent hour. It would seem she forgot, hence the call. My name is Miss Peabody, I’m one of three doctors that have been working with your brother. First of all, I’d like to offer my condolences for your loss. Jerome was…. An interesting character, certainly the most intriguing patient I’ve ever treated.”_

Stiffening in his seat, Jeremiah squeezed the phone and listened intently.

Continuing, _“The reason for my outreach is you’re the next of kin listed on Jerome’s file. For years he claimed he had no family but in light of recent events, and extensive media coverage, we’ve come to discover your kinship with Jerome. You’re the only family we’re aware of and Arkham Asylum rules and guidelines dictate that we bestow Jerome’s belongings to you. It’s not much, all you have to do is come in at time that’s suitable for you, sign a piece of paper and we’ll give you your brother’s belongings. If you don’t wish to take your brother’s items, please call and inform one of the nurses. Thank you and have a pleasant evening Mr. Valeska.”_

The call ended.

Ignoring the automated voice and options, Jeremiah placed his cell phone down on the desktop.

“You bastard….” Jeremiah balled up his fists. His whole body trembled and he unconsciously ground his teeth together. The nerve of Jerome! “WHY CAN’T YOU LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE?!” Jeremiah slammed his fists against the desktop.

_Brother~_

Jeremiah flinched and he looked around his office quickly.

From the maze and other rooms, Jerome’s laugh filtered in. Faint and near, loud and soft, dry and clawing at Jeremiah, his twin’s evocative laughter filled his head.

“No, no, no, please stop…” He had no intention of going to Arkham Asylum, not now, not ever. Shaking hands pick up the phone and dialed the number that previously called. He held the phone to his ear and waited for somebody to answer.

 

* * *

 

“Can you wait for me? It won’t be long.”

“Yeah, sure sure. Gonna keep the meter running though so…”

“Yes, that’s fine. Thank you.” Jeremiah climbed out of the cab and his gaze landed on the unsightly black iron fence. It looked primitive and archaic, just like the building itself. He’d never been to Arkham Asylum before…. Only read about it in the newspaper clippings he kept back at bunker; each article detailed Jerome’s escape from the esteemed establishment, including his first mugshot. Jerome really didn’t change at all, still an unhinged, short sighted psychopath.

Walking up to the gates, Jeremiah was greeted by a security officer.

“Name and reason for visiting?” The old guard grunted. He sat behind a computer and appeared to be playing a game of solitaire; he didn’t glance up at Jeremiah when he neared the glass window.

“Ah, yes, right.” Jeremiah felt apprehensive about the whole thing, he wished Ecco was there with him. Her calm and confident demeanor always soothed his nerves. Even with Jerome gone, he didn’t feel safe outside the maze walls. “Jeremiah Valeska…. I’m here to collect my brother’s belongings. He um, passed away earlier this week….”

“Sorry to hear that”, the guard said, almost a little too automatically as though he heard about family deaths all the time. He glanced away from his online card game and when he saw Jeremiah, his jaw dropped. “HOLY SHIT!”

Jeremiah cringed from the loud shout. He took a few steps back, “Sorry?”

The guard was on his feet and his bushy white eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He looked Jeremiah up and down from behind the glass, “Oh…. You’re not _him_.”  

“Him?” Jeremiah absentmindedly tugged on the dark sleeves of his trench coat. He knew who the guard was referring to but feigned curiosity.

“Uh yeah…. That Jerome guy… So he was your brother huh? What are you guys, twins or something?” The guard’s hand hovered over a landline phone.

“Yes, we were twins.” Jeremiah confirmed it with a nod.

“Hmm….” The guard eyed Jeremiah suspiciously, “You’re not another psycho, are you?”

“Please don’t compare me to him. I hardly knew my brother.” Jeremiah tried to hide his disdain, however his voice came off as a little irritated.

“Okay, okay sorry. Just making sure.” Picking up the phone, the guard spoke to one of the nurses inside the building to confirm Jeremiah’s visit. “Yeah, okay. Thanks Sheryl.” He put the receiver down and pressed a button underneath the counter.

A buzzer sounded and the iron gates parted.

“Go right on in kid.” The guard resumed his card game without a care in the world.

“Thank you, Sir.” The redhead slipped his hands into his pockets and walked through the open gates. Within minutes he found himself inside the building, waiting at a small desk with a bulletproof see-through wall separating him and ‘Sheryl’, as her name tag suggested.  

“Good morning Mr. Valeska, I’ll phone the doctor here in a second.” Sheryl’s long red acrylic nails danced across the keyboard.

“You don’t have the forms for me to sign?”

“Oh no, the doctor has to sign over your brother’s belongings. I’m sorry for your loss by the way.” Sheryl said without glancing up.

“Thank you…” He was beginning to grow tired of hearing that. If anybody knew Jerome, REALLY knew him, they’d be congratulating Jeremiah instead of apologizing. He huffed out an impatient breath and stood quietly off to the side. After several minutes, Sheryl made a call and informed Jeremiah the doctor was on her way.

A buzzing noise startled Jeremiah to the point of making him jump back.

Blue eyes must’ve been observing Jeremiah because a soft chuckle followed, “Oh sorry about that. It is redundantly loud.”

Jeremiah looked towards the voice and he saw a petite blonde with her hair tied up in a messy bun. She had thick rimmed glasses with black frames, similar to Jeremiah’s own. “It’s fine.” Once his racing heart calmed, Jeremiah extended his hand. “You must be Miss Peabody?”

“No, I’m Dr. Quinzel. Miss Peabody covers the evening shifts whereas I do the days, but I can understand the confusion, we sound similar over the phone.” Dr. Quinzel took Jeremiah’s hand and shook it once, “Or so I’ve been told.”

“Ah, that’s right….. she did mention evening hours. My apologies-” he waived his hand and motioned to his face, “-lack of sleep. I could honestly discern your voices, hers is a deeper octave then yours.”

“Really?” Dr. Quinzel quirked an eyebrow after lowering her hand. “Interesting. If you’ll follow me.” She turned and unclipped her ID badge from a lanyard around her neck. She inserted the card into a digital lock, causing another loud buzzing noise while an iron door rattled open. Clipping the card back in place, the blonde proceeded down a narrow corridor.

Jeremiah tucked his hands back in his pockets and followed the doctor down the hall. He was greeted by a peculiar mixture of odors; bleach, chemical disinfectants, urine, and was that…. fecal matter? He wrinkled his nose in disgust, this place didn’t seem sanitary at all.

“You do seem fairly exhausted…. Jerome’s death must’ve been difficult for you.” Dr. Quinzel said.

“Oh, you have no idea…” mumbled Jerome. _Just grin and bear it_ , he reminded himself. Sign a few stupid papers, grab Jerome’s stuff, and get the hell out of there, that was the plan.

Dr. Quinzel nodded while leading them down another hallway that took a sharp left. She approached a brown office door and plucked a silver key from her right pocket. She unlocked the door and pushed it open, motioning for Jeremiah to go in first.

“Thank you, Miss Quinzel.” Jeremiah entered her office and immediately noticed how tidy and clean it was. A pleasant aroma lingered in the air, reminiscent of lavender and laundry detergent; a hundred times better then the hallway.

“You’re assuming I’m not married?” Dr. Quinzel left the door slightly ajar and walked over to her desk.

“No wedding band.” Jeremiah commented. He glanced at her collection of books, most of which relating to the field of psychology.

“You’re very observant.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s unnerving.”

Jeremiah’s attention snapped back to the doctor, his eyes were wide and round with earnest surprise.

“I’m kidding!” Dr. Quinzel giggled, “You’re so stiff and serious. Thought I’d lighten things up with humor. Please, have a seat.” She pointed to one of the empty chairs in front of her desk.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be…. When Jerome died, I thought that was the last I’d ever hear of him. You can imagine my shock, and unease, being in a place he resided for years.” Jeremiah took a seat and crossed his right leg over his left. Both hands rested over his knee and he looked across at the doctor.

“Yes, I can understand your reaction…. You said _years_ , you were aware of his first arrest?” Dr. Quinzel sat down in her seat and removed the lanyard from around her neck.

Jeremiah bristled with uncertainty, shit, he needed to watch what he said around this woman; she was just as smart as she was beautiful. “Yes and no… I was in contact with my mother and when the letters stopped arriving…. Well, I put two and two together when Jerome’s name appeared in the headlines. My brother was a ticking time bomb, he was apt to go off one day and kill someone.”

“Oh, you two must’ve been fairly close if you saw this coming.” She unclipped her ID badge again and leaned down. Located underneath her desk was a metal safe with a similar digital locking system to the ones hovering outside of each iron wall.

“On the contrary. I didn’t grow up with Jerome, but I was aware of his…. unusual violent tendencies. For safety reasons, my mother sent me to a Catholic boarding school where I was adopted out. I never saw Jerome again until last week when he attempted to kill me.”

“I saw the news coverage on that, awful stuff…. Still, I’m not entirely convinced he was as bad as everyone suggested. The media blew that out of proportion.” The lock clicked and she opened up the safe.

“Excuse me?” Jeremiah’s could feel his mouth twitch, a scowl threatened to form. “What was your relationship with my brother, exactly?”

“I was his psychologist, of course.” Dr. Quinzel retrieved a medium size cardboard box. She set it down on the desk and drummed her fingernails against the lid. “He spoke highly about you, Jeremiah, I don’t think he ever had any intention of killing you, or anyone for that matter. Most of Jerome’s followers were the ones out there running rampant and killing everyone on sight. A clever guise that painted Jerome as a demented leader, he was, honestly, a good person some odd number of years ago.”

“Hm…. Such high praise. If I didn’t know any better, it seems as though you’ve developed an infatuation with my brother.” Jeremiah tilted his head, ignoring the urge to lash out. He forced himself to stay calm, this doctor, whoever the hell she was, didn’t KNOW Jerome like Jeremiah did. His twin was pure evil, nothing could convince him otherwise.

An amused smile curled the doctor’s pale pink lips, she didn’t bat an eye at the accusation. “Mmm…. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to hide something. What you just told me, word for word, was written in the newspaper article about Jerome’s attempt to murder his sibling. You’ve rehearsed this story  _many_ times, haven’t you?”

Jeremiah lowered his hands and stood up from his seat. “That’s because I’ve had to recite the story innumerable times to people who are so clouded and misguided by their sympathetic judgement to understand my brother. He was never good and far past reformation. Now if you please, I’ve got other matters to attend.” His voice was calm and lacked emotion, a cold monotone he resorted to if angered. This woman…. She had some nerve pretending to know Jerome. “And,” he added, “-Jerome is a manipulator and pathological liar. Whatever stories he fed you, I can assure you with a hundred percent certainty, they were _all_ fabricated.”

Dr. Quinzel didn’t respond at first. She looked at Jeremiah’s vacant expression and his rigid body posture. She struck a nerve, but something didn’t feel right…. The stories Jerome shared contradicted what Jeremiah was saying. Well, maybe it was never her place to separate truth from fiction. “I’m sorry, I let my curiosity get the better of me. Upsetting you was never my intention.”

“I’m not upset, your inquiries are appreciated but I must be on my way.”

“Of course. Here.” She picked up a clipboard and held it out to Jeremiah. “Initial, then sign and date.”

Taking the clipboard, Jeremiah looked down at the triplicate form and briefly skimmed over the details. He retrieved a pen from his front pocket and initialed the document before signing his signature at the bottom, providing the date right next to it. He held the clipboard back out to the doctor.

“Thank you.” Dr. Quinzel ripped the pink form off and tucked it inside the box. She stood, raising the cardboard box, and held it out to Jeremiah. “It’s been a pleasure Mr. Valeska, do take care of yourself.”

Jeremiah forced a smile that was hardly friendly. “Thank you, enjoy the rest of your day.” He took the cardboard box, tucked it under his left arm, and left without saying another word.

 

* * *

 

Hurried footsteps paced back and forth from one end of the kitchen, to the other.

The box sat untouched on the dining table.

Jeremiah paused and nibbled on his right thumb nail. He purposely ignored looking at the table and focused on the refrigerator. He knew he should’ve requested the cab driver take him to the local dump site, however, that would require a lengthy detour. The tab was well over $70.00 by the time they returned to Jeremiah’s home, he also had to cover a tip.

Sighing in frustration, the redhead took off his glasses and set them on the counter. He rubbed his closed eyes and ignored the headache looming dangerously near. First, it started with a light throbbing sensation, followed by pain. Next, the pain intensified and it traveled from the base of his head and all the way up behind his eyes. Migraines, awful, awful migraines… Some days they would incapacitate him and he’d be forced to lay in bed and dismiss all work. There was no known medical cause for them but they seemed to occur more often when Jeremiah was in a state of distress.

Shifting to a cupboard next to the fridge, Jeremiah rummaged through its contents and located a bottle of medically prescribed painkillers. He filled a glass of water and popped a couple of pills into his mouth. He drank half a glass and swallowed the pills, it would take at least ten minutes for them to kick in. He found his gaze hovering on the box again and cursed out loud, “FUCK!” he threw the unfinished glass of water at the table.

The glass bounced off the box, pushing it half a foot across the tabletop. Water spilled around the box, prompting Jeremiah to rush over and quickly lift the object before the water soaked into it. “It’s okay…Ecco will be back in a few days, she can dispose of this for me.” Jeremiah grabbed a paper towel and wiped the sides and bottom of the cardboard box. He decided to store it in a hallway closet, _out of sight, out of mind_ , that was the best way to approach this.

 

* * *

 

Jeremiah is able to work, somewhat, but he continuously finds himself taking restroom breaks, more than necessary, to walk down the hall and steal a glance at the closet.

Only two more days, then Ecco would be back. Having that box in his home was a nuisance and it distracted him from his work. He could barely focus on drawing up new designs for clients and he’d lose his sense of time. Not once, but twice he missed important conference calls with oversea clients. He apologized and rescheduled their meetings for next week, claiming he was feeling under the weather.

Still, he left his work space, fetched countless glasses of water and coffee, only to pause outside the closet door. He tried to work his mind around what belongings Jerome could have possibly left behind at the asylum. Clothes and shoes probably, what else did Jerome own? Couldn’t be much of anything, his sibling wasn’t a sentimental guy. The contents of the box had no value to Jeremiah, it would be a waste of time.

“A massive waste of time.” He resumed his trek back to the office.

 

* * *

 

One more day.

 _Only_ one more day.

He could endure this burden for twenty-four more hours, just focus on work.

 Stay VERY busy.

 _Stop looking at the fucking closet door and lock yourself away in the office. Don’t think about it._ He repeated the words inside his head like some bigoted mantra.

Jeremiah made the mistake of locking himself inside the office and working on a bottle of whiskey more than blueprints. Normally, he consumed a meal before day drinking but…. Another oversight on his part. He killed off a third of the bitter tasting alcohol before warmth buzzed in his stomach and chest. It was early in the afternoon, close to 1:00pm and the unfortunate Valeska is heavily inebriated.

Within the hour, he found himself in the bedroom. He’s sitting on the edge of a king-size bed with the cardboard box perched on his lap. He delicately traced his fingers up and down the lid, silently urging himself to put the box down and sleep off the alcohol.

Innocent curiosity isn’t the correct term to describe how Jeremiah is feeling. There’s something more that’s drawing him to the box.  Jerome was enticing him again, another one of his tricks, that’s what this was.

_My brother~_

Jeremiah doesn’t shy away from the voice, it almost sounds like it’s coming from the inside of the box, but he knows in reality it’s all in his head. He lifts the lid and discards it on the floor.

Glossy eyed and dazed, Jeremiah looked down to view what was inside the box.

The first item was a men’s cardigan sweater, with single row of buttons and in the shade of navy blue. It looked a lot like something Paul Cicero would wear….. That made sense, Paul probably gave some of his clothing to Jerome.

Jeremiah figured it out some years ago, shortly after Lila’s death, that Paul Cicero was his biological father. Ever since he was a child, he suspected Paul’s interest in helping the Valeska twins had a hidden motive. The blind fortunate teller also had a thing for the snake charmer. Jeremiah saw it in the way he lingered when Lila Valeska was present. Whenever Lila needed money, cigarettes, booze, or something for her sons, Paul was never hesitant to provide. Jeremiah never discussed it with Jerome, who was adamant that their father was a respected sailor. He didn’t blame his twin for choosing that fantasy over Paul, a conman whose servitude at Haly’s Circus was lifelong.

Setting the old cardigan down, Jeremiah lifted the next article of clothing. It was a red and white button up shirt with a ghastly, worn plaid pattern. It was just as vintage as the navy blue cardigan. He set it aside and picked up a pair of brown leather shoes and faded jeans. The next set of clothing was definitely Jerome’s style. It included a red tailcoat jacket, a white short sleeved dress shirt, a brown velvet sweater vest, ivory cream pants with a vertical gold stripe, and black knee-high boots. This was reminiscent of what Owen Lloyd would wear, a typical ringleader’s outfit. Jeremiah plucked a pair of gloves and a black satin bow tie. Yes, this outfit had Jerome Valeska written all over it.

Written all over.

Maybe…. Maybe it had his scent.

Without a second thought, he nosed the bow tie.

Gunpowder and fuel are the two main aromas, but lingering with the odor is Jerome’s personal scent. His twin always smelled like the outside, sharp, crisp, and brackish from his days spent out in the sun and working endless hours.  It was as though Haly’s Circus was embedded in his sibling’s essence. He could picture Jerome working, feeding animals, setting up the big tents, and finding enough time to check on him at the trailer.

Fingers slip under the red tailcoat and lift it off the bed. Jeremiah laid down on his back and sniffed the extravagant jacket. Oh, his scent was _stronger_ here…. The material was riddled with Jerome Valeska’s smell.

“Jay…” Jeremiah held the suit jacket against his face while his other hand slipped down underneath his pants. He gripped his semi-hard length and began to stroke himself.

_Brother, did ya miss me?_

“Yes….”

_Show me, Miah …. show me how much you fucking missed me._

“Mmm~” Jeremiah began thrusting his hips against his hand, squeezing down tighter as he worked himself into a full erection.

_Yeah~ that’s good, keep going._

Pre-cum leaked out of the sensitive slit and Jeremiah purposely ground his thumb against it. The pain elicited a husky groan and his body jolted, forcibly making him arch his back. “Fuck….I…Ahnn~” He pumped his dick faster.

_You’re so fucking hot Miah, can you come for me? Come for big brother~_

“Yes Jay, oh fuck, I’m coming!” Hips violently jerk with the powerful climax that followed. He stroked, hard and fast, while humping the air and imagining Jerome sitting on the bed next to him. His twin hungrily watching and soaking up the sight of his shameful brother. If anything, Jerome would be masturbating to the sight and afterwards, he’d lick up Jeremiah’s delicious cum.

If only it were true.

Jeremiah released his cock and wiped the mess off on the blanket. Pushing the suit jacket aside, he stared up at the ceiling. His glasses were fogged up from the increase in body temperature, a thin veil of sweat glistened on his brow.

And then it hit him. The predictable wave of nausea that plagued him during moments like these.

The redhead barely had time to lean over the bed and wretch out his guts. He spewed alcohol and bile onto the carpet floor. When there was nothing left to throw up, he dry-heaved several times and eventually collapsed in exhaustion. His nose wrinkled at the grotesque smell, he wasn’t looking forward to cleaning up.

Fuck.

Fucking Jerome.

In spite of how feverishly warm he was, Jeremiah trembled all over. He covered his face and sighed softly. He thought he was over this…. This impractical obsession with his sibling. He worked so hard, so fucking hard, to wipe any remnants of Jerome out of his life. He even requested Lila stop bringing up his twin in her letters and she willingly obliged. He didn’t want to know anything about his brother, as far as Jeremiah was concerned, Jerome was dead.

Now that he was dead in the literal sense, Jerome Valeska STILL managed to barge in on Jeremiah’s life and disrupt it in the worst way possible.

He should’ve never gone to Arkham Asylum.

He should’ve destroyed the box when he had a chance.

Jeremiah was back where he started, wanting to desperately ignore the fact he just masturbated while imagining his brother was right there with him. It was disgusting and Jeremiah was sickened by it all. His pants felt uncomfortably wet, he decided to change out of his soiled clothes first and then get started on the mess on the bedroom floor.

Just as the redhead slipped on his glasses and stood up, he noticed a splash of color on the bottom of the box. Seeing as how he already committed a profane act, he didn’t hesitate to grab the object out of the box and examine it.

It’s a book.

The hardcover has Jerome’s name spread across it in colorful, block letters….. Except the last letter is a faded green ‘3’ as opposed to an ‘E’. The center is filled with a glittery ice-cream cone, one scoop is light blue and the other a darker shade of blue. Sitting on top of the ice-cream is a pink heart that appears to be melting. Random stickers decorate the book cover, most of which are colorful hearts; one heart has an angry face with a toothy grin drawn on.

It’s juvenile at best. It looked like an elementary girl designed the book cover herself.

It’s so…… Jerome.

Jeremiah chuckled in amusement and shook his head, he didn’t approve of the design but then again, nothing Jerome did ever made sense. Opening the book, the redhead thumbed through the pages and discovered that it was a personal diary. None of the pages had dates; Jeremiah couldn’t distinguish when the entries were published. What he did notice, however, was how the handwriting went from awful to better. The pages towards the end had nice, legible handwriting and caricature drawings dotted here and there.

Recognizing one of the names, Jeremiah raised the book closer. One of the pages explicitly expresses how Jerome wants to kill Bruce, including a number of ways he’d go about doing it.

Bruce Wayne… Why him?

When he neared the final pages, something slipped between the paper and fell to the floor.

Jeremiah glanced down and realized it was an old Polaroid. He picked it up and turned it over to see whose picture Jerome was carrying around.

The redhead gasped.

In the picture, Jeremiah is standing next to his adoptive mother and father. The two men are dawning black tuxedos while Mrs. Wilde is wearing a black cocktail dress. They’re positioned next to a beautifully decorated cake and other party guests can be seen in the background. Jeremiah recognizes it as his 18th birthday celebration.

“How? ...” He trails off and realization sinks in. He sent the photograph to Lila because she requested an updated photo. Not thinking much of it, Jeremiah mailed her one and she graciously thanked him for it in the next letter. It didn’t occur to Jeremiah that his brother could easily sneak into her trailer and steal the photo right from underneath her nose. If that was the case, why didn’t she bring it up and ask for another photo? Unless…. She was drinking heavily and assumed she misplaced it, wouldn’t be the first time it happened.

“Jay…” Jeremiah could feel his chest tightening. Ignoring the guilt, he tucked the photo back into Jerome’s diary and closed it. He folded up all the clothing and placed it back inside the box. He put the lid on top and pushed the box underneath his bed. He exited the bedroom and made his way back to the office.

He walked around his work space and searched for a place to hide Jerome’s diary. He didn’t want Ecco finding it and inquiring about the contents. She didn’t know a thing about the history between the Valeska siblings and Jeremiah was going to keep it that way. There was no telling what secrets Jerome detailed in his diary. Once sober, Jeremiah would read more and destroy anything pertaining to him.

The redhead decided his desk was the most secure place. Ecco cleaned his office but she never touched his desk, because Jeremiah specifically asked her not to do so. Ever faithful and loyal, his proxy obeyed the order and left Jeremiah’s work desk alone. He opened up one of the drawers and placed Jerome’s diary inside. Shutting the drawer, Jeremiah sighed and glanced at the clock.

Thirteen more hours before Ecco’s plane arrives. That would give him adequate time to clean up the mess in his bedroom, shower, eat a full meal to speed up sobriety, and call a cab.

Grabbing bleach, a bucket, latex gloves, and a mop, Jeremiah walked back into his bedroom. He pushed all thoughts of Jerome out of his head and instead focused on his upcoming meeting with Bruce Wayne.

 

* * *

 

 

“If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us.”   
― Hermann Hesse


	2. Deceiver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the song below, it's another youtube link that inspired this chapter.

Artist: Lucas King - Piano

Song title: [Dementia ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nxvEbqKZy-0)

 

* * *

 

 

“What have you done?”

Jerome looks over to see Paul Cicero standing nearby. Jerome doesn’t say anything.

“I smell blood…. Lila’s blood, you…. you killed her, haven’t you? You finally snapped?” Cicero moves closer, a hand reaching out.

“You recognize her blood? Creepy.” Jerome doesn’t deny or confirm Cicero’s suspicions. He raised an eyebrow when the old blind man grabs his arm.

“Okay Jerome…. this is what you need to do. I need you to hear me out and listen to what I’m about to tell you. Don’t deviate from my directions, you understand?” Cicero whispers in an urgent voice.

Jerome inhales and exhales a soft sigh. “Fine.”

 

* * *

 

Doing as the old man instructed, Jerome left the circus in the middle of the night and deposited a hatchet somewhere in Gotham City, close to a bridge. The hatchet was soaked in Lila Valeska’s blood and had an interesting set of symbols etched into the hilt. It looked satanic and Jerome was almost tempted to keep it for himself. He liked sharp, pretty, and unusual things.

After discarding the item in a location that’s easy to find, Jerome makes his way back to the circus grounds. The entire duration of his trip took nearly two hours; Cicero told him to take the back roads and stay out of sight. He didn’t mind walking, the cold air was pleasant. He listened to the sounds of the city, very much awake and breathing out clouds of smoke, pollution, grime, and something decaying.

By the time he gets back, Jerome witnessed Cicero carrying out an assortment of cleaning supplies and hobbling his way back to his home.

Upon entering Lila’s trailer, Jerome was impressed to see a clean living room carpet and no dead mother in sight. He was curious who’s help Cicero commissioned to move the body but it didn’t matter. That heartless whore was gone and out of his life for good, Jerome wouldn’t pay her a second thought. He walked around the trailer and poked around, wondering if she had any money or pills stashed away. He wouldn’t consume any drugs of course, he’d sell them and make a little side money.

Fingers rummage through all the kitchen cabinets and drawers, finding expired cans of food but no drugs. The fridge was equally pitiful; empty, not a single food item – unless six packs of cheap piss-tasting beer counted. He checked underneath the couch, the bathroom, and finally the bedroom.

The smell was putrid and it made Jerome gag. Unwashed linens, layers of sweat and body odors, mingling with stale beer, cigar smoke, and probably moldy clothing – Lila wasn’t the best of housekeepers.  

“FUCK, gah!-” Jerome rushed to open one of the bedroom windows and he shoved his head outside, gasping for air that wasn’t tainted by his mother or thousand lovers.

“What are you doing?!” Cicero hissed.

Jerome blinked and caught sight of the fortune teller walking nearby. “Nothing~” he said innocently.

“Get out of there. When Owen notices Lila’s disappearance he’ll phone the authorities. You’re depositing evidence all over her bedroom.”

“…… How the fuck do you know I’m in her bedroom?” Once again, the redhead is unsettled by Cicero’s keen observations.

“Now.” A walking cane tapped impatiently against the ground.

Rolling his eyes, Jerome swallowed a breath of fresh air, held it, and pulled back into the bedroom. He closed the window and locked it. Right as he turned to leave, something poking out from underneath the mattress and box spring caught his attention.

The corner of a brown, paper envelope was partially lodged underneath the queen-size mattress. Letting curiosity get the better of him, Jerome grabbed it and adjusted the metal clasp. He opened it up and peered inside to view the contents.

Numerous papers, photos, and small white envelopes.

An impatient grunt outside the trailer prompted Jerome to stuff the envelope underneath his shirt. He left the bedroom, went down the narrow hallway, and exited the trailer.

 

* * *

 

Safe within his own home, Jerome removed the envelope and tossed it on the bed. He peeled off his t-shirt and kicked off his shoes before belly-flopping onto the soft mattress. He opened up the brown envelope and dumped everything out. Tossing the bigger envelope aside, Jerome picked up the blank white envelopes and opened them. It appeared each of them contained a letter, written in either blue or black ink.

That was strange…. Who the hell would write to Lila Valeska? Unless she had a couple lovers overseas or something…. Yeah, that would make sense. Jerome casually read over one of the letters. It seemed innocent enough, the details covered school -a college university- and the affluent students that attended. “Haha” Jerome laughed at the idea of a college instructor writing that devil of a woman. Maybe she had some juicy blackmail on the poor guy.

Skipping to the end, Jerome searched for a name to match the face of the letter.

Jerome’s eyes widened and his body stiffened up.

“No fucking way…” He read the last line over, and over, and over.

**_My apologies for the brief update. Besides school and work, there’s not too many details I can provide. Thank you for understanding, I hope to hear from you soon mother._ **

Jerome set the letter down and stared at the mess of papers on his bed. In his head, he replayed a conversation that took place over a year ago.

_Jerome had just gotten into another fight with one of Owen’s illegitimate children. The brat was a couple of years younger then Jerome and he thought he was a hotshot. The ignorant bastard decided to taunt Jerome and challenge him to a fist fight. Little did the boy know, Jerome could throw a punch._

_Within minutes the fight is over and both teens were on the ground, Jerome had the younger male in a headlock._

_Other kids screamed for Jerome to stop because the unfortunate boy was turning a sick shade of blue as he struggled to breath._

_Zach Valeska heard the shouting and thankfully, he intervened before Jerome successfully strangled a kid to death._

_A booted heel struck the back of Jerome’s head, causing him to let go and cry out in pain._

_Zach grabbed the back of Jerome’s shirt and started dragging the teenager away._

_Jerome struggled to stand but his shoes slid across the ground, kicking up small clouds of dirt and gravel._

_“How many times have I told you to knock that shit off! I’m tired of babysitting your psycho ass, learn to control that temper boy!” Zach threw Jerome against the side of a trailer._

_Jerome grunted on impact and he grabbed the back of his head, it was throbbing painfully. “If Owen’s bastards had some manners, I wouldn’t have to fucking put them in their place every time they opened their mouths!”_

_“Why you-” Zach advanced on the younger male._

_The trailer door swung open and an annoyed, grumpy Lila Valeska descended the steps. “Keep it down! Fuck, it’s too early for this shit.”_

_Zach paused and glanced at his sister. “He’s causing trouble again. Seventeen years old and he still acts like a fucking kid.”_

_“Fuck you.” Jerome flipped his uncle off and slowly hoisted himself up onto his feet._

_Zach made to grab his belt from around his waist, “Looks like somebody needs a lesson in manners. Something your brother understood.”_

_“Don’t you fucking talk about my brother.” Jerome said through gritted teeth. He kept his back pressed against the trailer wall and his feet shoulder width apart, he was prepared to bolt if his uncle tried to lay hands on him._

_“Doesn’t matter.” Lila said with a shrug, “He’s dead anyway.”_

_Startled, the two Valeska men whipped their heads to stare at Lila._

_“Dead? Yer a fucking liar!” Jerome’s voice raised with panic._

_“Why would I lie?” Lila gazed at her son, indifferent about his emotional reaction to the news. “I could’ve just kept it from you and let you go on thinking Jeremiah was alive. Would ya prefer that?”_

_Jerome is silent. He looked down at his feet and watched a few small black ants crawl across his worn shoes. “When?”_

_Lila reached into her robe to grab a pack of cigarettes from her bra. “Three weeks ago.”_

_“How?”_

_“Car accident.”_

_“How did you find out?”_

_“Cops came knockin’ on my trailer door. Your uncle and I went over to the city morgue to identify the body. After signing all the papers and paying that bullshit fee for a casket, I had him buried at Gotham Cemetery under an unmarked grave.” Lila flicked out her lighter and lit up the end of the cigarette._

_Zach didn’t add anything to the conversation, whereas, Jerome was still attempting to process the shocking news._

_“Why? Why would you bury your son without a headstone?” Jerome fought back the tears that were threatening to form._

_“You know how much those fucking things cost?” Lila snapped, tucking the lighter and cigarettes back into her bra._

_“Yeah it’s a fucking arm and leg to buy a grave marker,” Zach chimed in. He grabbed Jerome by his arm and pulled him away from Lila’s trailer. “You’re on dish washing duty ya little prick.”_

_Jerome didn’t fight back, he could barely comprehend what was going on around him. “Where is he buried? Tell me, please.”_

_“Fuck no! If yer gonna keep causing trouble for everyone then we won’t say where yer brother is buried.”_

_Jerome swallowed thickly._

_Zach lead the ginger teen underneath a makeshift hut where a crate was piled high with dirty dishes. He shoved Jerome towards them and pointed to the hose and dish soap. “Wash and rinse all these dishes, yer gonna have to boil water and soak the big pots. If you behave, MAYBE Lila and I will show you where Jeremiah’s grave is. Ya got that?”_

_Jerome barely manages a nod._

_“Good.” Zach left the area._

_Jerome sat down on a wooden chair and stared at the mountain of dishes. He grabbed one of the bigger pots and set it down on his lap. The redhead hunched over and hugged the iron pot to his chest before convulsing in a series of quiet sobs._

Unless Lila had an illegitimate son that Jerome wasn’t aware of…

The redhead sat up and hastily searched through the pile of letters and photographs. He examined one photo after the other, most of them had buildings and landscapes he didn’t’ recognize. He saw a fancy mansion in one of the images and some rich folk that didn’t look familiar at all. Who the fuck were these people? Jerome couldn’t identify where the photos were taken.

Not giving up home, he frantically tossed letters and photos onto the floor. More rich people, more buildings he didn’t know the names of, some places appeared foreign, was that a fucking yacht?! Jerome zipped through the photos until a faded Polaroid caught his eye.

Rolling over onto his back, Jerome held the photograph up. Upon closer examination, the redhead discovered a familiar face nestled between an older man and woman dawning expensive attire.

Jeremiah Valeska.

Jerome recognized his twin sibling right away.

Overcome with mixed emotions, Jerome folded his arms over his face and heaved out a deep sigh.

No fucking way…. That bitch LIED to him and Zach went right along with it. All this time he thought his brother was dead and buried somewhere in Gotham; the city had several cemeteries and Jerome searched all of them. There was one too many unmarked graves from other families who couldn’t afford an engraved headstone. Eventually, he gave up and hoped somebody was tending to the grave site.

Forcing himself to sit back up, Jerome checked every single white envelope for a return address.

Nothing.

He also searched the letters for any hints about Jeremiah’s whereabouts. To his disappointment, Jeremiah didn’t reveal any personal details. For all Jerome knew, his twin could be in another goddamn country. The hours waned on from the late evening to the early morning, his search was fruitless.

But Jeremiah was ALIVE.

Jerome curled up underneath the blanket and held Jeremiah’s photograph close against his chest. He closed his eyes and drifted off into restless sleep.

 

* * *

 

The girl had her legs spread across the redhead’s waist and she rocked her hips back and forth. Her back is arched and she grinds her hips faster, feeling that stone hard erection throbbing inside her. Every time it touched her sensitive spot inside, she’d tighten up and moan.

Jerome moved his hands up and down the girl’s thick hips and he stared in awe, admiring the way her body moved. He adored her lustful moans, fuck, it was hot seeing a girl please herself.

Each time she raised and lowered herself, her prominent breasts bounced and a lewd squishing noise followed. She was soaking wet and teetering on the edge of a promising orgasm. She kept her hands pressed against Jerome’s chest to steady herself. “Oooh Jerome, I’m close” she whispered breathlessly.

“Fuck, me to.” He reached up and grabbed a fistful of her dark, auburn hair. “C’mere~” He yanked her down and attacked those lips with a hungry kiss.

The forceful kiss and pain of having her hair pulled edged the girl closer. She kissed him back, equally starving for his sweet lips. The two entangle their tongues and without warning, Jerome bucked his hips up from the bed and ground his cock inside her walls.

“Oh fuck!” She stopped moving and let Jerome take over.

Grunting, Jerome slammed into her tight heat. He growled against the kiss and nipped at her bottom lip.

The bed creaked and trembled underneath their bodies. The playful nip made her whine and beg for more, “Jerooome~”

Keeping a firm grip on her hair, Jerome raised his other hand and smacked her hard against the ass.

The action had her blushing furiously but she loved the combination of pain, humiliation, force, and let’s face it, Jerome was fucking amazing in bed. With his cock nuzzled against her womb, the girl cried out “I’M COMING!”

Feeling those muscles wrap around his cock and squeeze was enough to push Jerome into blissful ecstasy. He let go of her hair and wrapped both arms around her back. A husky groan left his lips as he continued to thrust into her and ride out his climax.

The two eventually collapse; the girl laid her head on Jerome’s shoulder while he rested his head back against the bed. Each are covered in sweat and panting softly.

Jerome trailed his fingers along the girl’s back, drawing lazy circles here and there. “Penelope?”

“Yeah?”

“Run away with me.”

Penelope giggled and pressed a kiss against Jerome’s neck. “So romantic. I thought you’d at least get down on one knee and flash me a ring.”

“Ring? What are you talking about?” Jerome stopped moving his hand.

“Huh?” Confused, Penelope put her hands on Jerome’s chest and pushed herself up. She furrowed her eyebrows in puzzlement, “You’re not asking me to run away and elope with you?”

“What?” Jerome blinked up at her, somewhat bewildered by the question. “You’d marry a guy _like_ me?”

“Well, yeah, I mean….” Penelope raised an eyebrow, “If not to elope, why ask me to run away with you?”

“I um, see about that…..” Jerome was hesitant to share the news. He met her gaze and exhaled a deep breath, “I found out Jeremiah is alive. I want you to help me go look for him.”

Brown eyes widen and a mouth gapes open. “He….HE’S ALIVE?!”

Jerome nodded, “Yeah, he is but I don’t know where the hell he lives at. I got some photos and letters I can show ya, and we can-"

Penelope abruptly climbed off Jerome and his bed. Ignoring the wet mess between her thighs, she walked across the bedroom and grabbed a summer dress from the floor.

“Penelope?” Jerome sat up and he hastily removed the condom from his semi-erect length. He tossed it aside and sat up in bed. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? Oh nothing, just the love of my life wants to go find the person who nearly DESTROYED him and attempted to blind me when I was a little girl.” After slipping the floral printed dress over her head and adjusting it around her body, Penelope searched for her underwear.

“Hey it’s not like that. Jeremiah never laid a finger on me, it was Zach and Owen that beat on me every day.” Unintentionally the redhead sounded defensive.

“BECAUSE OF YOUR BROTHER!” Penelope snapped.

Jerome’s lips pursed together in a frown. Sadly, Penelope had a point and Jerome couldn’t argue with her on this one. Spotting a pink garment in the corner of the room, Jerome stood up and walked over to pick it up. He held out the lacey pink underwear, with little pink hearts all over the fabric.

“Hmph.” Penelope snatched the colorful panties from Jerome and slipped them on.

“I gotta find him….” Jerome moved back to the bed and sat down on the edge. “I need to hear it from him, why he started all those rumors about me.”

“Jerome…” Sighing and shaking her head in disapproval, the girl walked up to the redhead and stood in front of him. She cupped Jerome’s face and stroked his cheekbones. “I love you but please, let this go. You and me, we can be happy together. You don’t need Jeremiah in your life anymore.”

Jerome felt guilty for not telling Penelope everything. Oh, the poor girl would lose her shit if she knew about the nature of twin’s relationship. He was bonded to his sibling in a way nobody would understand and most would object to a disgusting notion like that. Incest was a universally hated topic and Owen would throw out families if their secret came to light. If it wasn’t for Jeremiah’s paranoia, the twins would’ve been discovered years ago and probably kicked out.

Jerome reached up both hands and placed them over Penelope’s own. “You’re right about everything but I’m sick of not knowing…. I’m gonna pack up my clothes and leave today.”

“If you leave to go look for your brother…..” Penelope’s voice was cold and unwavering, she maintained eye-contact while she spoke. “I will never speak to you again.”

Lips form into a sad smile and Jerome nods. “I understand, well, guess this is goodbye.” He gently removed her hands from his face. He stood up and leaned forward to press a kiss against her forehead. “Take care of yourself kid.”

Penelope doesn’t know how to react. Part of her wants to slap Jerome across the face and tell him to fuck off, the other, wants to cry desperately at his feet and beg him to stay. They weren’t really dating, their physical intimacy developed just a few months ago. In that short time, she’d grown to love Jerome and his wild nature. He was a sweet and kind lover, but equally rough and dominant. Sometimes his mood swings mirrored bi-polar disorder, and on occasion, depression would result in locking himself away in his trailer. Penelope knew about Jerome’s abuse since they were old enough to walk. She spotted the bruises, the cuts, welts, and Lila Valeska made it a point to humiliate her child and hit him in front of everyone. She always felt bad for Jerome but her mother, Sharon, urged her to look away and mind her own business.

That’s literally the commanding law at Haly’s Circus. Mind your business. If it wasn’t family related then nobody had any right to offer up their opinions or express concern. The abuse continued, and Jeremiah never developed a single bruise or scar. As a young child, Penelope was smitten with Jeremiah but after Jerome revealed that his sibling lied and made up all those stories, she now loathed the man. Honestly, she never believed the gossip, Jerome was a loving brother who doted on Jeremiah. It wasn’t remotely possible for Jerome to hurt his twin. When people started whispering about Jerome abusing Jeremiah and trying to kill him, Penelope held her tongue and kept quiet. Doubts swirled around in her head and she did her best to keep her nose out of Jerome’s life. Although, in light of Jeremiah’s absence, Penelope and Jerome grew close. The redhead expressed that Jeremiah lied but he didn’t know why. Penelope sympathized and kept Jerome company. They went from friends, to lovers, and now….

Strangers.

Pulling her hands out of Jerome’s grip, the girl turned and walked over towards the door.  She slipped on a pair of pink flipflops and without turning, addressed Jerome: “You too. Stay safe.” With that, Penelope stepped out of Jerome’s bedroom and his life.

 

* * *

 

Jerome stuffed as many pairs of clothes he could into a black duffel bag. After zipping it up, he hoisted it over his right shoulder and left his trailer. He barely makes it across the circus grounds before a familiar, deep voice calls out for him.

“Hey kid!”

Pausing, the redhead turned around to see Harvey Bullock walking over. “Mr. Bullock?”

“Just Harvey, please.” The cop stopped and glanced at Jerome’s duffel bag. “Going somewhere?”

“No, this is just dirty laundry. I was going to walk to the nearest laundromat. Is there something I can do for you?” Inquired Jerome with a head tilt.

“Yeah uh, Jim needs to speak to you down at the precinct.”

“Detective Gordon?” Jerome blinks, “But he already interviewed me.”

“Yeah, yeah he’s got your statement.” Harvey itched his beard, “Just a few follow up questions is all. He has a lead on a new suspect and needs confirmation on your part.”

“Really?” Jerome’s eyes widen with hope and he nods eagerly, “Okay, let’s get going.”

 

* * *

 

A door opens and Harvey motions for the teenager to go right on in.

Jim looks at door, "Hi Jerome. Please take a seat." He gets up and pulls out a chair for him. "You know Mr. Cicero from the show?"

"Yes Sir." Jerome removes his hands from his pockets and takes a seat next to the blind man. He glances at Paul, "Hello Mr. Cicero."

Cicero turns his head slightly, "Good evening Jerome.”

Jim resumes his seat across from the two and focuses on Jerome. "Do you know why you're here?"

Jerome leaned forward in his seat, "Did you find out who killed my mother?"

"You killed your mother Jerome." Jim stated.

Jerome gave an incredulous look, "Me?"

"You killed her and Mr. Cicero helped clean the mess up inside her trailer. You moved the body and added the hatchet wounds as a lazy afterthought." Jim looked at the blind man, "He told you to scratch the Satanist stuff on the hatchet and throw it off the bridge. Cult members and organized crime, it's all over the news. You thought we'd lean towards cult members as the murderers."

Shaking his head, Jerome stuttered out, "Sir, t-that's absurd a-and offensive!"

"But it's the truth. What I don't know-" Jim paid close attention to the teenager's reaction, " -is why this man risked so much to help you. I think he's your father."

Jerome scoffed and shot Cicero a side-glance. "You don't know what you're talking about." He looked back to Jim, "My father was a sea captain.”

Jim glanced over his shoulder at Lee, the two exchanging curious expressions.

"Am I wrong Mr. Cicero?" Jim inquired, while turning back to face the blind fortuneteller.

Cicero nodded, "Yes."

"He was a sea captain. His name was Sven Karlson. He died at sea." insisted Jerome.

"What was the name of his ship?" Jim asked.

"He worked on a lot of different ships." Jerome responded.

"The one he went down in."

Jerome paused and stared at Jim in disbelief. He wracked his brain for an answer that was nonexistent. "She never said..."

"We can do a blood test to prove I'm right. Takes only half an hour to get a full proof result." Jim glanced at Lee, "Isn't that right Dr. Thompkins?"

Lee nodded, "Yes."

Jim looks back to the two. "Save yourself a needle."

Paul Cicero scrunched up his nose, "I do hate needles."

Jerome turned his head to stare at Paul.

"I'm sorry Jerome..."

"W-what are you talking about?" Jerome asked.

"He's right," Paul continued, "I am... your father."

"No, you're not," Jerome's voice wavered, "Why would you say that?"

"You must've suspected the truth," Paul shrugged his shoulders.

"You're not my father," Jerome stated firmly. "My mother w-would never-"

Paul interrupted, "Your mother was a cruel woman! She was often unkind to me, but she did once love me.... In her way." Cicero reached out and patted Jerome's arm, "And she loved you very much. That's why she gave you a better father."

Jerome looked down and his shoulders trembled. The redhead turned away from Cicero and hung his head low. The revelation shook him to his core and he started sobbing.

Jim and Lee are sympathetic, the doctor was almost tempted to go over and comfort the teenager. That is, until laughter escaped Jerome's lips.

Jim's eyes widened.

A sadistic smile curled his lips, while tears stained his cheekbones. He turned in his seat to face Paul again, "My mother was a cold-hearted whore who never loved anyone." His voice dropped an octave lower, it was gravelly and cruel. "And she'd never touch a pathetic, old, creep like you."

Cicero doesn't appear fazed by the insult. He cleared his voice, "All these years, do you think I was kind to you because I'm such a good man? If I wasn't your father, would I helped you as I have, after what you did?"

Jerome frowned and turned his attention back to Jim. "My father.... Hmm! I'll be damned." He swiveled in his seat and faced the detective. He noticed the peculiar looks on Lee and Jim's face, prompting him to raise his eyebrows. "What? It's very funny." That sinister smile returned and he giggled in amusement. He moved his hands through the air and pretended to hit a drum and cymbal, "Ba donk, shhh~ Looks like the bitch got me with a zinger in the end." Jerome lowered his hands.

Jim ignored his frazzled nerves, "Why did you kill your mother Jerome?"

Waving his right hand dismissively, Jerome addressed the question. "Oh, you know how mothers are. She just, kept, -" It was almost like another person was speaking through Jerome, with a voice that strangled the life out of anyone who was listening, "PUSHING. And I'm like, fine mom, be a whore. Be a drunken whore even.... But don't be a nagging, _drunken_ , whore." Jerome's smile switched up to friendly, an eerie imitation of a normal human being. "Ya know? Don't come yell at me to do the dishes if you been **BANGING A CLOWN IN THE NEXT ROOM!"** Jerome slammed his right fist against the tabletop. "Ya know?"

The teenager burst into a hysterical fit of laughter. He turned his gaze on Cicero, laughing all the while, then pounded his fist against the table a second time. Turning his attention back to Jim and Lee, he laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Lee felt a sense of dread she'd never experienced before.

Jim was unsettled, but he tried to hide it behind a firm glare.

 

* * *

 

Two police officers lead Jerome into Arkham Asylum.

Several interviews, with doctors and a judge, determined that Jerome Valeska was mentally unfit to stand trial. Most of the time he was laughing his ass off and taunting those who tried to understand him. Oh this was so much fun, more fun he’s had in a while. It doesn’t bother him that he’s going to a facility where he might spend the rest of his life. Haly’s Circus was a shithole, and exploring Gotham with little to no money? MORE of a fucking shithole. He happily accepted his fate.

Upon changing out of his clothes, Jerome glanced over at the female guard. “Heya toots, ya can look if ya want. I ain’t no sally virgin.”

The female guard tuts and shrugs her shoulders, but she made no attempt to look at Jerome.

“Fine, suit yourself. I swear yous missing out.” Jerome giggled and slipped on the unsightly vertical striped pants and shirt.

 

* * *

 

For the first two weeks, Jerome ducked in and out of the guard’s view. He was a charismatic guy that could capture everyone’s attention, but he was equally adapt at molding into the background and disappearing from sight. It was difficult for doctors, guards, and nurses alike to keep track of the teenager.

Jerome didn’t stir up trouble, not yet anyway. He made friends with a cute blonde named Barabara, but he referred to her as ‘Babbs’ because it sounded adorable, like ‘Bugs Bunny’. Only thing is, this female bunny would stab a knife down any man’s throat. He adored that about her.

 

* * *

 

The next person of interest was a young teenager named Jonathan Crane. Jerome was curious why they would put someone, obviously under eighteen, in Arkham Asylum. He soon discovered the reason why, and the disturbing crimes Jonathan supposedly committed.

The kid was messed up, and was constantly talking to himself.

Jerome stayed near him and tried to comfort him. Mostly, he just wanted the kid to trust him – because he was brilliant as hell. Crazy maybe, but highly intelligent, like Jerome.

 

* * *

 

Jervis Tetch. A weirdo that had to have a hat on at all times.

Jerome liked weirdos. And he especially liked how Jervis created a paper mâché hat made out of old newspapers and a stolen carton of milk.

Brilliant.

Another man Jerome kept his eyes on.

 

* * *

 

Jerome wasn’t interested in women, not after his childhood friend disowned him.

But Arkham continued to surprise him, and soon enough, a unique gal waltzed into his life.

The ginger was caught off guard by her presence but he enthusiastically welcomed her into his demented mind and shared long, lost secrets.

Secrets that didn’t affect Jerome anymore, but might affect another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially I wanted to write this 2nd chapter in one go. But after awhile I was like "Oh crap, this is a bit....too long." That wasn't my intention. But the diary will come into play in the next -and hopefully- ONLY chapter after this. Sometimes my mind conjures up more then what I care to write and detail. xD I'm sorry!


	3. Fabulist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay okay. So multiple songs inspired this chapter, couldn't pick one. I chose another name for 'Liar', AKA fabulist. I'm gonna update the tags but please, pay attention to the trigger warnings, which will include: Implied sexual abuse (on a minor), attempted rape (on a minor) and other disturbing details. Should any of this bring up bad memories and feelings, do NOT read.

“Pffft, ya gotta eat something kid. It’s been what, three days now?”

The stubborn brunette shook his head. “Poison. They poisoned it.”

“Yeah? Guess this is a shitty fucking last meal then,” he said through a mouthful of bread and sandwich meat. Evening meals consisted of sack lunches and it was always the same gross thing; bologna sandwiches with cheese, one mayo and mustard packet, a carton of 2% milk, a bitter tasting apple or orange, one chocolate (or vanilla) pudding cup, stale potato chips, and an overly dry chocolate chip cookie.

“He says they poisoned it. You shouldn’t eat it.” The boy hugged himself and rocked back and forth in his seat. He had an old, worn bath robe draped over his Arkam issued jumpsuit.

“It’s not poisoned! Look I finished half my meal off already.” Jerome pointed to his tray.

A woman scoffed in the corner, “Let him starve Jerome. You’re wasting your time.”

“Babs, sweetheart,” Jerome set his half-eaten sandwich down and turned his emerald eyes on the blonde. “Johnny boy here needs food and rest. Hugo’s been doing those shock therapy sessions and it’s got the kid all fucked up. Why don’t you dig out those maternal instincts ya got buried deep down in that fire pit of a heart and talk to Johnny?”

Barbara rolled her eyes, “No.”

“Oooh that’s right…. You killed your parents.” Picking up a plastic spork, Jerome twirled it between his fingers, “This cheap cutlery has better maternal instincts then you. I’d hate to be the bastard child you end up pushing out of your womb.”

“That’s it.” Barbara threw down a celebrity magazine and stood up. She picked up her tray of food, dumped the contents on the floor, and lunged for Jerome while swinging the tray at his face.

The ginger was on his feet within seconds. He managed to grab both of Barbara’s wrists and stop her from hitting him. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, temper my dear. You don’t wanna fight in front of our baby boy, do you?”

“FUCK YOU!” Barbara hissed.

Jonathan covered his ears, shut his eyes, and rocked faster. “Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.”

“Aww look what ya started. Now he’s gonna be on repeat for hours.” Jerome glanced at the younger male.

“ON THE GROUND NOW!” A guard shouted.

Barbara and Jerome instantly back away from each other, the blonde woman threw her tray on the floor and raised her hands. “We’re not fighting! See? Just a friendly hug between friends.”

“Yeah, what she said.” Jerome grinned and raised his hands in the air too.

“I know what I saw! On the ground now or yous both getting tasered!” The guard snapped.

Three more guards rushed into the cafeteria.

The increase in guards causes some of the inmates to hoot and shriek, they lived for chaos.

“You fucking idiot.” Barbara whispered, while trying to feign a polite smile.

“You threw the first punch.” Jerome whispered back.

In one, quick, motion, Barbara turned and punched Jerome in his face.

The right hook connected with Jerome’s jaw and he grunted from the sudden jolt of pain. He stumbled a few steps back, gripping his aching jaw.

“And I’m going to throw the last one!” Barbara spat.

Two guards rush up to Barbara Kean and Jerome Valeska, each shoving a taser into their sides.

Static crackled through the air.

Jerome and Barbara simultaneously tense up and erupt into violent convulsions. They collapsed on the floor as the guards flooded them with painful shocks of electricity.

 

* * *

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“The altercation that took place yesterday.”

“Meh, nothing to talk about doc. Just a couple of trigger-happy guards.” Jerome shrugged, he’s sporting a ghastly bruise on the left side of his jaw. Currently he picks at his nails and leans back on the feet of his chair, shoes perched on the tabletop. Across from the redhead is the newly employed psychologist, Dr. Harleen Quinzel.

“That bruise on your face, did a guard do that?” Dr. Quinzel had her right leg crossed over her left and she rested her hands over the knee. Red fingernails strummed on against black leggings and occasionally, her blue eyes dart to the blank clipboard. This is her fifth session with Jerome Valeska, but so far, she’s learned nothing about him – except for what’s written down in his criminal file.

“Hah!” Jerome giggled and looked across the table. “Oh no, no, no, why would a guard blatantly punch me? They’re such noble men who uphold the law to the finest degree!”

“Uh huh….” Another detail about Jerome was that he was exceptionally talented at deflecting attention away from himself and evading topics at hand. The subtle sarcasm was noted and the doctor sighed, maybe this wasn’t going to work. Maybe Miss Peabody would have to resume her position as Jerome’s psychologist.

“You okay toots?” Jerome quirked an eyebrow, having heard the defeated sigh.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She absentmindedly adjusted her glasses. “I believe we’ll end this session early.”

“Hmm?” That caught his interest. He lowered his feet from the tabletop and crossed his arms, emerald eyes hovering on the doctor. “That’s a first…. Any particular reason why?”

Smiling, Dr. Quinzel shrugged. “Oh, I don’t believe I’m the right psychologist for you.”

“What makes you say that?” Jerome leaned forward in his seat.

 _Oh I hope this works_ , she thought to herself. Pretending she didn’t have a care in the world, Dr. Quinzel picked up the clip board and pen before standing. “In order to progress and reform you, I have to first diagnose you. But with little to no information on your history and past relationships, I can’t do my job. I’ll rescind my offer to treat you, I’m sure Miss Peabody will be thrilled to work with you again.”

“Doc…” Jerome frowned slightly.

Ignoring Jerome, the blonde turned away and walked over to the door. “Have a good day,” she said in a monotone.

“WAIT!” An angry fist hit the tabletop.

The sound made Dr. Quinzel jump and she glanced over her shoulder, heart fluttering underneath her chest. “For what?”

Jerome met her gaze and after a brief pause, he sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair again. “Whaddya wanna know? Should I tell you about the first time Lila hit me? Or how she’d snuff cigarettes out on my skin because she was too fucking lazy to find an ash tray?!” His voice rose and spurts of unhinged laughter escaped his lips, “Haha! She’s a fucking piece of work I’ll tell ya that much. Hmm, her brother was a demented bastard too. Ya wanna know about the time he shoved my hand into a boiling pot of chicken stock? And how he threatened to rape my little brother if I didn’t keep my mouth shut?”

“Little brother?” Although mortified by the details of abuse, Dr. Quinzel learned something that wasn’t written down in Jerome’s files. “Your mother and uncle are the only ones listed as family. I wasn’t aware you had a sibling.”

 _Fuck,_  Jerome slapped a hand to his forehead. He didn’t mean to let that one slip.

Wait…. This could be a good thing.

Jerome needed a doctor with a strong stomach, not just a pretty face and gorgeous eyes. If they wanted to treat the redhead then they would have to send their best. It’d take someone with a strong will and confidence to handle the volatile man and his completely fucked up past. “Yeah, keyword HAD a brother.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Dr. Quinzel said quickly.

“He ain’t dead. He’s just…. not here. He ran away like a coward and I haven’t seen him in years.” Jerome stood up and walked around the table, approaching the petite blonde.

Dr. Quinzel turned her entire body to face Jerome, she couldn’t show fear, even if her heart rate picked up.

“You wanna know who I am?  _WHAT_  I am?” Jerome stopped right in front of Dr. Quinzel, their bodies but a mere centimeter away from touching. He loomed over her, a peculiar smile stretched across his face.

“I would,” Dr. Quinzel nodded, “I’d like to understand you Jerome, so I can help you.”

“Haha! Help me huh? Nobody ever helped me and they sure as hell ain’t gonna start now.” Jerome slapped his left hand against the door, right next to Dr. Quinzel’s head.

The doctor didn’t bat an eye. “I mean it. I know you don’t trust me or anyone else for that matter, but I am truly, honestly, here to help you. Please, help me understand. Tell me about yourself, every detail, no matter how horrid, it isn’t going to frighten me away.” She gazed up at the tall male, feeling heat radiating off his body and his warm breath brushed against her glasses.

“Yeah? Shit, since you twisted my arm…..” Jerome’s voice lowered and he leaned down just a bit, until he was eye-level with the doctor. “I knew I was messed up in the head when I was five years old… I liked physical attention but the only person to show me any kind of love and intimacy was my brother. Lila was always getting after me but it never stopped me from kissing or clinging to my brother.”

“Okay....” Dr. Quinzel didn’t understand what Jerome was eluding to, until he added another disturbing piece to the story.

“Oh yeah kissing and hugging, kid stuff, seems innocent enough right?” Jerome watched the wheels turning in Dr. Quinzel’s eyes as she considered the information. “We started sucking each other’s dicks when were eight years old. He’d ask me to rub out those stubborn morning erections and in return, he’d do the same for me. I liked his taste, his smell, and that hot cum was all I could think about. And-” Jerome’s smile deepened, “-he let me take his virginity when we were fourteen. Now I know what yer thinkin’, eight years old is kinda young but it certainly didn’t help when Lila dragged her pedophile boyfriends into our home.”

This was a lot of information to process in one go. With doe-like eyes, she stared at Jerome and didn’t say anything; she was stunned into silence by the grisly revelation.

His smile never waned and taking a few steps backwards, he offered up a casual shrug. “That enough information for ya doc?”

“Thank you.”

 “What?” scoffed Jerome.

“Thank you, for trusting me enough to share that with me.” Dr. Quinzel removed her glasses and, using the end of her white lab coat, wiped the lens clean.

“Huh….” Jerome tilted his head, the doctor appeared calm. This was NOT what he was expecting. “Thoroughly unsettling.”

“Hm?” Dr. Quinzel put her glasses back on. “Oh, you’re referring to my lack of emotional distress?”

Jerome raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“I’ve heard worse.”

“HAHAHA!” Jerome grabbed his stomach and cackled like a lunatic. “Y-you” -he struggled to breathe through his laughing fit- “Heard” -another gasp- “WORSE?! BUHAHAH!”

Dr. Quinzel nodded, the neurotic behavior didn’t faze her. “Was it forced?”

Hearing the question, Jerome cut his laughter short and stared at the doctor with a puzzled expression. “Clarify.”

“I mean, did you force yourself on your brother or did he force himself on you?”

“What? No, God no!” Jerome shook his head as if the question offended him. He huffed out an irritated breath and crossed his arms again. “Look I know I’m a messed up guy but I’m not THAT fucked up. All of it was consensual.”

“I see. You know, incestuous relationships are not as uncommon as you think. From the data I’ve collected, one in every five inmates registered in Arkham Asylum have expressed intimate relationships with family members.

“Yay for inbreeding and white trash,” drawled the redhead.

“Is that how you view yourself?”

“I dunno, is that what you think we are?”

“We?”

Jerome motioned around the room with the wave of his hand.

“Ah, the other inmates. No, you were all human to begin with. Certain life events and circumstances have resulted in altered perceptions of reality and social norms. I aim to rehabilitate those suffering from traumatic abuse and guide them towards acknowledgement and recovery. Have you heard of the A.C.E. Study?”

“No, but I’d love to hear more~” Jerome purred sweetly and he closed the distance between him and the doctor, once again, standing uncomfortably close. He stared down at her, a big smile on his face. “Does this mean yer gonna be my psychologist?”

Dr. Quinzel ignored the blush creeping across her cheekbones, giving a curt nod and mumbling, “Yes. If you promise to behave yourself and cooperate during the sessions.”

“Deal.” Jerome admired the cute blush and with an amused chuckle, he twirled around and walked back to his seat. Admittedly, Dr. Quinzel surprised the hell out of him. He didn’t know what to expect in future meetings but, he was looking forward to breaking the doctor open and examining what made her tick. She was the first person inside of Arkham who truly piqued the redhead’s interest.

 

* * *

 

An unexpected visitor arrived at Arkham Asylum.

A couple of orderlies and guards fetched Jerome Valeska out of the rec room and, after handcuffing his hands in front of his chest, escorted him towards the entrance of the building.

Thinking it’s Detective Jim Gordon, Jerome practically bounced his way down the corridor. He hadn’t heard from Zach or Cicero, his newly discovered father. He still got a kick out of it every time he thought about the blind fortuneteller with the snake charmer. It was, without a doubt, a drunk one-night stand. Lila had many of those, it was any wonder she didn’t pop out more kids after Jerome and Jeremiah. Maybe the one incident encouraged the bitch to purchase condoms.

Humming a cheerful tune, Jerome is guided into a separate room with a two-way mirror, a small table, and two chairs. He took a seat and glanced over to watch the orderlies leave and one guard remained at the door, while the other went to fetch the so-called visitor.

“Hey pal, mind taking these off?” Jerome raised his hands and rattled the chains of his cuffs.

“Not a chance kid.” The guard shook his head.

“Aww come on~” Jerome cooed, batting his eyelashes innocently, “I’ll be yer best friend, forever and ever~”

The guard wrinkled his nose and glared past the redhead, towards the wall.

Somebody knocked on the door.

The guard swung around, grabbed the door handle, and opened it. He stepped backwards and opened the door wide.

Jerome’s eyes widened and his jaw unhinged in absolute shock.

“Hi Jerome.”

“P-Penelope?”

She was beautiful as ever, with one of her spring dresses on-this one a soft baby blue with hints of green at the bottom- and brown ballet flats. She had her hair fixed up nice, with a double French braid on either side of her head. Jerome noticed a dab of color on her lips and eyes, she hardly ever wore make up; wasn’t like she needed it anyway.

Jerome whistled and unabashedly stared, “Wow… Looking hot toots. Did you get all dolled up just for me?”

Penelope walked over to the table and took a seat. She set a neon pink handbag down and smiled across at Jerome. “Not at all.”

Turning in his seat to face Penelope, Jerome gave a coy smile. “I thought you said you didn’t wanna talk to me ever again?”

“That was before they arrested you for the murder of Lila Valeska.” Penelope’s smile faded, replaced with concern. “Jerome…. Did you really do it?”

Crap, here comes the serious talk he was dreading. The smile dissolved and Jerome nodded. “Yeah, it was all me.”

“…. Why did you keep something like that from me?”

“Honestly?” Jerome shrugged, “I was relieved when she took her last breath. Like, that was the first time I genuinely felt happy and I didn’t think you, or anyone, would understand how good it felt to take her life.”

It was unnerving how casually Jerome explained his feelings after murdering his mother. Penelope’s eyes widened a little and for the first time in her life, she saw Jerome under a different light. The hyperactivity, the mood swings, the jokes about death and killing… Was this murderous lust building up over the years? There was no way this was the man she fell in love with.  

“Do you feel remorse for taking your mother’s life?”

“Nope.” Jerome shook his head.

“Would you kill again?”

“Yup! It’s such a  _rush_  Penelope,” Jerome was grinning like the cat who caught the canary, “I wish you could experience it too, then you’d know what I was talkin’ about.”

Silence.

Penelope unblinkingly stared at the man across from her. She didn’t know what to think or what to say to him. Her ex-lover was a murderer and  _actually_  insane. It wasn’t just rumors and speculation anymore, she was witnessing insanity firsthand.

The awkward silence has Jerome squirming in his chair. He didn’t like the way Penelope was looking at him, “So uh…. Been a couple months. Thought the circus woulda left Gotham awhile ago.”

“We’re leaving tomorrow morning.” Penelope said stiffly.

“Oh, headin’ south before the winter huh?”

“Something like that.” Penelope opened up her handbag and dipped her hand inside to search. “The investigation into Lila’s murder prevented us from traveling. That and Owen sold most of his property, including your trailer, and fled the city. I believe the cops were going to charge him as an accomplice.”

“That greedy bastard!” Jerome scowled, “I hope they catch him. What about Cicero and Zach?”

“Cicero retired and he now rents a studio apartment in the city. As for your uncle…. He randomly disappeared after your arrest.” Penelope found whatever she was looking for and raised a brown, leather bound journal from the handbag. “This was the only thing I could grab before Owen sold your trailer.” She held the book out to Jerome.

“My diary.” Jerome recognized the book right away. He reached out, gripped it with both hands, and pulled it closer to examine. It was a plain hard cover when he first purchased it, but now, bright colors splashed the front. A cone with two blue scoops of ice cream, including a heart on top that was melting into the ice cream. Varied sized hearts dotted the cover and it was glittery, as though she bedazzled it herself. “You decorated it for me~” Jerome was pleased with the artwork. He trailed his fingers over the ice cream cone and looked back to Penelope with a genuine smile, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Penelope relaxed somewhat and returned the smile. “We’re under new management now, that was another reason we stayed put.”

“Oh yeah? So who’s the new owner?” asked Jerome.

“I forgot his first name, but his last name is Grayson. Seems like a smart man, real family guy too. His wife and children joined the circus and we get to keep the same name.”

“Grayson, huh, don’t know anyone by that name.” Jerome set the book down and he reached across the table to take Penelope’s hand.

Not meaning to, Penelope recoiled from the touch and jerked her hand away.

Confused and embarrassed, he pulled his hands back and set them down on his lap. He looked down at his diary with a blank expression. “I appreciate you stopping by, uh, safe travels and whatever.”

“Jerome…I’m sorry.” Penelope felt bad for how she reacted. Grabbing her hand bag and standing, she walked around the table and moved towards the door.

The guard opened up the door for her and motioned for Penelope to step out first.

Jerome didn’t look up because he knew Penelope wouldn’t have the nerve to meet his gaze.

Well, it was probably for the best. Jerome wasn’t going anywhere soon and Penelope had her life to live.

“Let’s go kid, on your feet.” Grunted one of the guards and a few orderlies joined him.

Jerome grabbed his diary and stood up. He quietly followed the guard and was escorted back to his cell.

After walking through several iron walls, Penelope made it to the front desk. She had to sign off on a clipboard to get her cell phone and car keys back. She tried to remove Jerome’s hurt expression from her mind but that’s easier said than done. She ignored the guilt weighing on her chest and left the building. As she descended the steps and moved towards the iron gates, Penelope noticed a yellow taxicab on the other side.

What’s odd is that the cab is parked off to the side and a man is standing outside the vehicle, leaning against it with his gaze focused on the building.

Penelope neared the gates and waved to the security guard on the other side.

He notices her right away and presses a buzzer.

The gates creak and groan before sliding open.

Penelope stole a side-ways glance when she walked through the gates. The stranger was dawning an unusually long trench coat in shades of purple and royal blue. He appears to be smoking a cigarette, his face overshadowed by a black, wide-brim hat. He purposely looks down when Penelope draws nears, as though to hide his face.

“Is it busy?”

Penelope paused, “Excuse me?”

“Arkham, is it busy?”

“I….no, not really.” Penelope couldn’t see his face. She thought it odd someone would wear heavy clothes during the summer months, and the style itself was exceptionally vintage.

“That’s all I needed to know. Thank you.” The cigarette is discarded on the ground and a heel snuffed it out. With that, he dipped back into the taxicab and closed the door. The vehicle slowly backed up and pulled out onto the main highway.

“Okay, that was…. strange.” Penelope shook her head and walked away from the gates towards the visitors’ parking lot.

 

* * *

 

“S-stop! LET GO OF ME!”

“Fucking knock that shit off kid! Quit squirming!”

Jonathan Crane was pinned against the floor of his cell. For some unknown reason, all of the other inmates were dismissed for lunch but Jonathan’s cell remained locked. The floor was empty, but for the single guard and underage inmate.

“SOMEONE HELP ME!” hollered Jonathan.

The guard, an older man with a bulky physique, grabbed the pillow off Jonathan’s bed and ripped the pillowcase off. He’s sitting on the boy’s chest and using all of his weight to keep him trapped against the cold floor.

Jonathan clawed at the man’s legs and attempted to push him off.

“This oughtta keep you quiet.” Rolling up the pillowcase, the guard covered Jonathan’s nose, causing the boy to gasp for air. When his mouth parted, the pillowcase is shoved inside to muffle his voice. Afterwards, the guard forced the squirming boy over onto his stomach and grabbed his wrists. The sound of chains and a sharp snap followed.

With his hands restrained behind his back, and his voice no longer audible, Jonathan whimpered. Tears blur his vision and soon fell in steady streams. He sobbed helplessly, repeating a stifled ‘no, no, no please don’t do this’.

Showing no empathy or mercy, the brute of a guard grabbed Jonathan’s striped pants and tugged them down past his thighs. “Oh fuck yeah, look at that ass.” He groped Jonathan’s pale cheeks and squeezed.

Jonathan jolted against the touch, his body violently trembling as he tried to block out the revolting sensation.

Letting go, the guard spread his thighs on either side of Jonathan’s slim hips before unfastening his belt. “I told you kid, we could’ve made this easy and gentle but you had to go and run. Now I’m gonna fuck you raw, oooh you’re gonna bleed for days.”

Closing his eyes, Jonathan accepted his dreadful fate. He thought back to his first day in Arkham, when detective Jim Gordon visited him and assured him he would be safe, and taken care of. With no other family members, Jonathan was utterly alone in this world. He was foolish to think Jim had any say on what the guards and doctors did to him inside Arkham. It was a fucking hellhole, with perverted guards and orderlies. The doctors were okay, but they tortured Jonathan in a different kind of way; shock therapy was used on him several times to get his hallucinations under control, that and a batch of unlabeled prescriptions. If this was Jim’s idea of taking care of him… That bastard was going get what’s coming to him, revenge, delivered by either Jonathan himself or another victim of Jim’s distorted view on justice. Yes, Jim made plenty of enemies; Jonathan needn’t worry about what’s to come – besides the physical pain and humiliation of the guard sitting on top of him.

Jonathan felt the guard’s calloused hands grab his cheeks again and forcibly spread them apart. The boy shuddered when the cold air hit him. Okay, this is it, time to withdraw and let Scarecrow take-

The guard spluttered out an incoherent slur of words.

A low grunt, trailed by wet squishing noises and gasping.

These were all sounds to be expected but Jonathan didn’t feel any pain.

The lack of weight and a soft thud indicated the guard fell off Jonathan and hit the floor.

Jonathan blinked his eyes open and turned his head to the left to see what happened.

What he saw was truly a frightful sight, one that would give him nightmares.

What appeared to be a homemade shiv, shaped out of burnt plastic, protruded from the guard’s throat. His eyes were wide with shock and pain, while blood seeped out of his wound and mouth. He convulsed right there on the floor, sucking in air through what sounded like a torn trachea.

“MMMPH?!” The startled teen rolled over onto his back and scooted as far away as possible, until he was against the cell wall. It was then he noticed another inmate, hovering close to the bleeding guard.

Shoulders trembled and the inmate exhaled ragged, strained breaths. Both his hands are balled up into fists and when he looks over his shoulder; Jonathan recognizes those piercing green eyes immediately.

Jerome Valeska.

The redhead looked back down and lowered himself next to the injured guard. “Huh… Mr. Putt, you a family guy Putt? I notice most rapists like yourself, got a wife and kid at home. What does Johnny look like to you? You adolescent son, or daughter? Hmm?” Jerome jabbed his finger against the older man’s throat, causing air to wheeze in and blood to seep out. Shifting his hand towards the man’s belt, Jerome unlatched a set of keys and stood up. He turned and walked over to Jonathan.

Jonathan lowered his head and hunched up his shoulders, ‘Please, don’t hurt me’ he said in a garbled voice.

“I ain’t laying a finger on you but I gotta get those handcuffs off. Can you turn around for me?” urged Jerome, in a voice that’s gentle and unbefitting of the redhead.

Moving slowly and hesitantly, Jonathan leaned up on his knees and turned his upper body to expose his cuffed hands.

Leaning down, Jerome tested out a few different keys until locating the right one. The first cuff unsnapped, followed by the second one. Jerome tossed the handcuffs aside while Jonathan scrambled to his feet, and hurriedly pulled his pants up. Afterwards, he ripped the pillowcase out of his mouth. 

“H-he was….g-going to rape me.” Jonathan stuttered, casting a fearful glance at the guard.

“Yeah, I know.” Jerome glanced down as the guard made loud gurgling noises and spit out gobs of blood. “Oh look at that, he’s choking on his own blood now. He’s probably got a few more minutes before his lungs fill up.”

“How did you know?!” Jonathan faced the other male.

Jerome shrugged casually, “You weren’t at lunch and I figured I’d come check on ya. You really needa start eating more, that way fat pricks like this can’t push ya around-”

The brunette latched onto Jerome in a fierce hug and buried his face against the other’s chest. “Thank you!”

“Wow!” Jerome raised his hands in surrender. To be honest, he wasn’t much of a hugger unless it involved a certain someone. As intimate as he was with Penelope, Jerome never held her the same way he did with Jeremiah. So this, this was all new and slightly uncomfortable for the redhead.

“H-how can I repay you?” Jonathan lifted his head and blinked up at Jerome.

“Naa don’t worry about it.” Jerome lowered his arms to his sides, taking care not to touch Jonathan but he didn’t mind the clinging hug.

The guard shuddered and exhaled a wheezy breath. Then, his body stopped moving all together.

 _Oh shit_ , Jerome thought, eyes hovering on the dead guard. This was Jonathan’s cell and there was a dead guard on the floor, lying in a pool of his own blood. Jerome looked back down at Jonathan and noticed the slight burn marks on either side of his head, where the hair was singed off. Fucking Hugo Strange and his team of psychos…. Jonathan didn’t deserve any of this. “Hey um…I think you need to leave.”

“What do you mean?” Jonathan furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“I mean…. You got a dead guard in your cell. They’re gonna think you did this and…” Jerome trailed off.

Realization sunk in and Jonatha’s eyes widened in fear. “T-they going to hurt me! J-Jerome I can’t go back down there, please, Hugo will….Hugo will-” Jonathan started blubbering.

“Kid, kid, calm down,” the redhead urged. He cupped Jonathan’s face and gently stroked his thumbs over his cheekbones, wiping away the tears. “I want you to run into the cafeteria screaming bloody murder, or whatever, and tell em’ Jerome Valeska stabbed a guard.”

Jonathan sniffled and shook his head, “I can’t let you do that.”

“Oh yeah you can cuz your good buddy Jerome can handle whatever that fucking doctor has to offer. I mean, come on, what’s a few shock therapy sessions? I got this.” Jerome winked and gave those pale cheekbones a firm squeeze. “Now git.”

Jonathan pursed his lips in a pout, however, he feared the idea of seeing Hugo Strange again. He’d been trying to hard, so very hard to behave and stay out of trouble just to avoid more shock therapy. It was painful, and it made him feel like he was in a daze most of the time. If he ever considered someone as a friend, it would be Jerome Valeska.

“Okay….thanks Jay.”

Jerome tensed up and his eyes went round with astonishment. He hadn’t heard that name in what felt like a lifetime ago.

Jonathan missed the physical reaction and let go of Jerome. He avoided looking at the dead guard and hurriedly rushed out of his cell.

Jerome sat down on Jonathan’s bed and twiddled his thumbs, “Well that was weird.” He was referring to his childhood nickname, and not so much the fact he killed a rapist guard.

About fifteen minutes or so pass before Jerome hears shouting down the hall and approaching footsteps.

“Oh goodie!” Jerome stood up and cracked his knuckles, one at a time. If they were going to send him to Hugo’s dungeon then he was going to go down swinging.

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Strange I don’t believe this is necessary for Jerome.”

“Based on what my dear?” Hugo turned away from the glass window and quirked a bushy eyebrow.

“For starters, Frederic Putt was a known rapist back in his state. How he managed to get hired here is-”

Hugo interrupted, “Stick to your point, Dr. Quinzel.”

“Right….” She exhaled softly and continued. “Several inmates have reported Frederic Putt for sexual assault, and excessive violence.”

“Hmm, I’m aware.” Hugo tapped his chin thoughtfully, “I recall they temporarily suspended him and did a thorough investigation into these accusations. You do realize that they never found any evidence to suggest Putt committed such immoral acts? The inmates that reported him, they recanted their statements and none of this could go to trial without a reliable testimony.”

“…..Yes Mr. Strange, I’m well informed of that.” It was difficult for Dr. Quinzel to remain calm and not lash out at her boss. By the time she got news of the murder and person responsible, they already subdued Jerome and brought him down to the basement –otherwise known as the ‘intensive treatment floor’. “Jerome Valeska was either saving Jonathan Crane from an attempted rape or he was defending himself!”

“Mmm…” Hugo hummed in acknowledgment; it would seem the new hire was attached to Jerome. Such a rookie mistake, eventually she’d learn that close and personal connections with patients are dangerous. “Even so, that doesn’t justify the murder nor excuse the beating the guards took. Four of our staff are in the hospital, one with a serve head concussion. Why, the man is a vegetable and Jerome thought it hilarious! Clearly he has some violent tendencies that need…..adjusting.”

“But shock therapy could make things worse,” insisted Dr. Quinzel. “You said so yourself, it varies from person to person and the results are never the same. You’ve turned several patients into aggressive, continent, lunatics that are on lockdown twenty-four hours a day.”

“Yes, and I truly feel bad for those poor souls.” Dark brown eyes turn back to the window and observe as Miss Peabody adjusted a metal apparatus over Jerome’s head. She hooked leather straps underneath his chin and ignored the flirty remarks from the redhead – of course, he was going to mention how kinky it was being strapped down.

“What you forget,” added Hugo, “are the patients who’ve greatly improved as a result of shock therapy. Take Jonathan Crane for example, he no longer hallucinates and doesn’t harm himself. Before he couldn’t function in a social setting but now, the boy has made  _excellent_  progress. There are others, among Jonathan, who’ve also seen similar improvements in both behavior and attitude.”

“But Doctor-”

“That will be all Dr. Quinzel.” Hugo waived a hand dismissively.

Dr. Quinzel sighed in defeat and she turned to face the window, sad eyes hovering on Jerome. She didn’t get a chance to speak to him, to find out what the real story was behind the attack. “Might I address one more concern?”

Hugo sighed and nodded, “If you must.”

“Some patients forget their identity, altogether, what will happen if Jerome forgets who he is?”

“Hmmm, that’s a viable concern.” Hugo glanced at the psychologist and smiled, “We’ve dealt with plenty of those before. We simply create a new identity for them.”

“New?” Dr. Quinzel’s eyes fluttered, “Do we fabricate a new name? A new life?”

“Oh, no, no my dear. See, they’re in Arkham for a reason so it’s best to combine some truth with falsifications. I’ve read over your notes and, tsk, tsk, what a troubled boy Jerome is. His aggression is a direct result of the physical and sexual abuse he experienced throughout childhood. We want Jerome to behave and to feel….happier, if you will. My suggestion is we remove all the traumatic events but for the murder of his mother. I’m sure both you, and Jerome, will be fairly content with that outcome.”

“Sir.” Dr. Quinzel nodded but she didn’t agree with Hugo’s methods. The cons outweighed the pros here.

The door opened and in stepped Miss Peabody. “Okay Mr. Strange, the boy is secure.”

“Ah, lovely.” Hugo nodded and he moved over to a wall that was mounted with various dials, buttons, monitors, and screens. Displayed on a plasma screen is Jerome’s heart rate, blood pressure, and breaths per minute. Hugo pressed a button that activated the speaker inside the other room, “Are you ready Mr. Valeska?”

Jerome’s head was strapped down, preventing him from peering into the window across the room. “Let’s rock.”

“Very well.” Hugo released the button and grabbed a u-shaped handle against the wall. He pushed it up, causing the machine inside the other room to hum with life.

Jerome burst into a fit of hysterical giggles.

Dr. Quinzel averted her eyes while Miss Peabody and Hugo Strange recorded their observations.

 

* * *

 

Jerome Valeska was on bed rest for a few days. Apparently he’d come down with a nasty flu bug and was kept in quarantine. Seventy-two hours later, he’s released back into general population.

The redhead was certainly feeling the after effects of sickness and medication. His thoughts were scattered, mirroring ADHD. What struck him as odd was that he didn’t remember arriving at Arkham Asylum. A weird man in pink tinted glasses and a bald head, explained to him that he was near death when he arrived. The guy, who referred to himself as Dr. Strange –odd name- told Jerome a bizarre story about murdering his mother and attempting to run from the cops. Somehow, he ended up lost in the woods and they found him days later, suffering from hypothermia. Thankfully, he was found just in time and was rushed to a hospital; later he was transferred to Arkham Aslyum.

It all seemed farfetched to Jerome but it wasn’t like he had a better explanation. He recalled, vaguely, that he held contempt for his mother. What for? He didn’t know, but hatred and disgust throbbed inside his chest when he thought about her. Lily, no, Lila…. The name made him shiver with rage. Oh well, the bitch was dead, halle-fucking-lujah.  

It’s late in the afternoon, rec time for inmates on the East wing. Jerome is weaving in and out between tables when he spots a woman sitting at a table alone. From where he’s standing, he can see she’s not haggard and old –like most female inmates in Arkham. In fact, she’s rather young and attractive – maybe a few years older.

Pressing two fingers into his mouth and coating them in saliva, Jerome strolled over to the woman while slicking his eyebrows down. He casually hopped over one seat and sat down across from the pretty blonde. “Hi gorgeous! I’m Jerome!” He cocked his head to the side with a coquettish smile dancing across his lips.

Without looking up, Barbara addressed Jerome. “Keep moving ginger.” She sounded annoyed and flipped a page over in the magazine she was reading.

“Just being  _polite_ ”, he accentuated the word with an irritable tone of his own before switching back to cheerful, “So what cha in for?”

The question prompted Barbara to lower her magazine and narrow her eyes on Jerome. She had the strangeset sense of déjà vu. “I’m not in the mood for one of your stupid games.”

“Wow, dial it back toots! I’m only trynna make conversation here.” He pretended to pout.

Rolling her eyes, Barbara went back to reading. “Go bother that creepy boyfriend of yours.”

“Boyfriend?” Jerome repeated. He quirked an eyebrow and leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the tabletop and his chin against his fists. “What kinda guy do you take me for? Besides, cougars are more of my thing.”

Barbara furiously turned in her seat and chucked the magazine at Jerome’s face.

Jerome ducked his head out of the way, laughing all the while Barbara greeted him with a middle finger.

Unbeknownst to the two, Jonathan Crane was no longer at Arkham Asylum. 

 

* * *

 

Dr. Quinzel was dreading her first meeting with Jerome since his ‘therapeutic visit’ in the basement. Hugo got to Jerome first when he woke up, and the only details he provided was that Jerome understood he was a criminal for killing his mother and was now a patient at Arkham. Nothing else. Dr. Quinzel was treading through uncertain territory.

The door clicked open, making the doctor jump in her seat. She turned her head to see a guard escorting Jerome in while his hands were handcuffed in front of him.

“Hello Jerome.”

“Hiya doc.” Jerome was delighted to meet the psychologist. He’d heard rumors from the other inmates that she was easy on the eyes, a petite little thing. Oh, he agreed, the woman was gorgeous and she didn’t look that much older than Jerome.

The guard shoved Jerome against his seat and proceeded to bend over, unlocking the handcuffs. “Just holler if you need anything Dr. Quinzel, I’ll be outside the door.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Jerome doesn’t appear bothered by the hostile guard and he simply waits for him to leave before addressing the doctor. “So yer Dr. Quinzel huh? Heard a lot about cha. Yer even prettier in person~” Jerome crossed his arms over the table and leaned forward to rest his chin on them.

 _Yup, that’s Jerome alright…._  She thought to herself. It was ALMOST the same set of words he used during their first encounter. How much of him has changed? She was certainly curious. As an added precaution, Hugo confiscated Jerome’s diary and any other personal items that might reveal his past; most of which were newspaper clippings of Lila Valeska’s murder. “Thank you, you’re too kind. Shall we get started? We’ve got an hour to kill.”

Smiling mischievously, Jerome shrugged his shoulders. “Oh I can think of better things to do then just talking~”

“Hmm, as could I but if we do anything else, I’ll be failing my job and my boss would fire me as a result.” She said casually.

“Aww, well we don’t want that.” Jerome’s nose wrinkled in disapproval. “Hmm, fine, ask away doc.”

“Okay, let’s start with your childhood. From what I’ve gathered about Lila Valesk’s murder, you two didn’t appear to have a good relationship. Care to divulge the particulars about that?” 

“Mmm… there’s not much to tell,” he said with a shrug.

Again, Jerome was avoiding the topic. How much did he remember about the abuse and people involved? Dr. Quinzel would have to push him harder.

“Tell me…. About growing up at the circus.”

Jerome smiled a little, “Oh ya know, typical upbringing of a circus kid. We traveled all over the country, usually camping out for a week and sometimes two, if the sales were good. I lived with my mom but she uh, was a single parent, and drank…. A lot.”

“I see.” Dr. Quinzel scribbled down some notes on her clipboard. “Your mother….she was your only family at the circus?”

“Nope.” Jerome shook his head, “Got an uncle but he was a fucking dickhead. Always giving me his work and chores to do, shit, a five-year old shouldn’t have a job.”

“I agree, it sounds like the circus robbed you of a childhood.”

“Yeah but there was a couple good things about it.”

“Like?”

Jerome leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms above his head, letting out a satisfied groan when his back popped. “The animals, for one. They were fun to work with. Made decent money as a laborer and I had a few friends there, Penelope and Ryan, both of em’ were a few years older but we grew up together.”

“Penelope and Ryan…” Dr. Quinzel wrote the names down. “Anyone else?”

Jerome pursed his lips together and glanced up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Well there was this one guy called Curtis, he was Owen’s son… Your average bully right there but he disappeared when I was around twelve. I wouldn’t call us friends per say, he enjoyed picking on me and the other circus brats.”

“Circus brats?” Dr. Quinzel giggled, “That’s a cute name.”

“Think so?” Jerome watched her with a fond smile, “I mean, I like to think I’m cute, but your laugh is by far the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Dr. Quinzel blushed slightly, “Ahem, flattery corrupts both the receiver and the giver.”

“I heard that one before, it’s um-“ Jerome snapped his fingers, “Oh! Edmund Burke, right?”

“H-how did you know?!” Alarmed, Dr. Quinzel set her clipboard down.

“I dunno. Probably read it somewhere and stored it right here in the ol’ noodle.” Jerome tapped the side of his head.

“Impressive.” Dr. Quinzel smiled, “Tell me more.”

“Yer putting me on the spot huh?” Jerome leaned back in his chair.

“It’s either that or we discuss your turmoil regarding Lila Valeska.”

“Well shit, since you twisted my arm….” Jerome smirked and crossed his arms behind his head.

 

* * *

 

Besides certain lapses in time and memory, Jerome appeared to be functioning just fine without any negative side effects of the shock therapy.

Dr. Quinzel reports her findings to Hugo Strange and the doctor is pleased to hear about Jerome’s progress.

Jerome acknowledged his actions were wrong and he did feel a sense of remorse for murdering Lila in cold blood. He shared horrific stories about Lila’s abuse, also sharing the fact that her boyfriends would beat on the boy for entertainment. Zachary Valeska was another culprit that led to Jerome committing the atrocious act. His only family, Lila and Zach, were monsters and they physically, and verbally, abused Jerome Valeska.

The clever redhead didn’t mention Paul Cicero. With Lila gone, he had one more parent to remove and that promising goal kept him going in Arkahm Asylum.

Dr. Quinzel and Jerome Valeska’s friendship grew. It was to the point where they hardly talked about Jerome’s past and instead, the redhead genuinely wanted to hear about the woman’s life outside Arkham walls. He asked about her cat, Gypsy, and if she was feeling better after surgery; Jerome offered tips and tricks to get the cat to eat. Apparently, a few guards made passes at Dr. Quinzel and after Jerome had a ‘talk’ with them, they backed the hell off and avoided the psychologist altogether. Sometimes, Dr. Quinzel would sneak in drinks or snacks for Jerome, whatever she could fit into her purse, and tuck away in the lab coat. It was safe to say, the doctor was falling – and falling hard- for the charismatic redhead.

During one of their afternoon meetings, Jerome is scrolling through Dr. Quinzel’s cell phone. He was curious about what music she had stored away on the device.

“Ugh, Jerome….” Dr. Quinzel groaned, “I told you, I have odd taste in music. You’re not going to find anything on there you like, or recognize.”

“Challenge accepted!” Jerome pipped up. He kept scrolling through the folder until he came across a familiar song title. “Wow…. I haven’t heard this song in years!” He lowered his chair to the ground with a loud thud and selected the song. He set the phone down on the tabletop and stood up. “Come on doc, let’s dance!”

An upbeat melody floated up from the cellphone speakers and Dr. Quinzel recognized the song as ‘[Do Wah Diddy Diddy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=43vOAw2sAFU)’ by Manfred Mann.

She blushed bright crimson and shook her head, “Noooo!”

Jerome opened his mouth and started singing with the music, “There she was just walkin’ down the street! Singin’ do wah diddy, diddy, dum diddy do~ Come on doc, pleassee?” Jerome moved his hips to the beat and motioned for Dr. Quinzel to join him.

“If I step on your feet it’s all your fault!” She rose from her seat.

“Haha! Okay.” Jerome took her hands and pulled away from the table. He joined in on the song again, “Snappin’ her fingers and shufflin’ her feet! Singin’ do wah diddy, diddy, dum diddy do!” Jerome shuffled his feet back and forth.

Dr. Quinzel giggled and she found it surprisingly easy to keep up with Jerome. She mimicked his footwork, moving forward and backward the same time he did.

Jerome twirled Dr. Quinzel in a full circle and when she faced away from him, he moved up close and put his hands on her hips. “She looked good, looked good. She looked fine, looked fine!” He applied pressure and rocked her hips from side to side.

Dr. Quizel allowed Jerome to guide her movements and she swayed her hips with the tempo.

Jerome took the woman’s hand and twirled her around twice, only to let go and point to his head, “And I nearly lost my mind!” Then he pretended to shake his head back and forth like a dog.

“Oh my God!” Dr. Quinzel started laughing at the ridiculous sight.

Jerome flashed her a charming smile before moving closer and taking her hands again.

The two continue dancing around the room, their movements’ reflecting a variation of the Jitterbug Dance.

Jerome joined in on the next chorus, “Whoa-oh. I knew we was falling in love! Yes, I did and so I told her-” He twirled Dr. Quinzel on her red heels, “-All the things, I’d be dreamin’ of~”

Dr. Quinzel accidentally bumped into the chair and she squeezed Jerome’s hands to steady herself.

Jerome felt the tense grip and he stopped moving, only to shift his left hand behind Dr. Quinzel’s back to prevent her from falling. “You okay?”

“Y-yes.” Dr. Quinzel was painfully aware of the slight gap between their bodies. She cursed it and herself for wanting to be closer.

Unblinking, Jerome stared at those beautiful blue eyes, until daring his gaze to lower to the woman’s mouth.

The non-verbal question registered and Dr. Quinzel cupped Jerome’s face and pulled him close to-

The door clicked open.

Dr. Quinzel stepped away from Jerome faster than a blink. With a red face, she lowered her hands to her sides and stared at the intrusive guard. “Yes? What is it?”

Jerome growled irritably, “Cock block….”

“Huh?” The guard glanced at Jerome suspiciously before turning his attention to Dr. Quinzel. “Hours up Miss, I’m going to escort the inmate back to his cell.”

Giving a melodramatic sigh, Jerome held up his wrists. “ _Impeccable_  timing as always.”

Dr. Quinzel covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

Jerome shot her a cocky grin and wink, “See ya next week Dr. Quinzel~”

 “Take it easy pal.” The guard slapped handcuffs onto Jerome’s exposed wrists. “Go.”

Picking up her clipboard, Dr. Quinzel noticed how feverishly warm her body was, with a racing heartbeat to match. Had the guard not barged in, or if they had more time….. “No, ugh, Harleen stop it.” She dismissed the inappropriate thoughts straightaway, collected her phone, and left the room.

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Strange I don’t understand… Why now? He’s made excellent progress this past year and hasn’t assaulted anyone.”

“Oh? You haven’t read the complaints have you?”

“What complaints?....”

Hugo opened up a drawer underneath his desk, rummaged through folders, and selected a manila folder with the current year. He held it out to Dr. Quinzel, “Here you go. A psychologist should be well informed about her patients.”

Dr. Quinzel snatched the folder from Hugo and opened it. She thumbed through various reports, all of which were complaints against-

Jerome Valeska.

“What? But I….why didn’t anyone inform me of this?”

“Hmm that appears to be the million dollar question, isn’t it?” Hugo tapped his fingers together and watched Dr. Quinzel frantically read over the reports. “It would seem our precious little Valeska has been threatening staff, orderlies and guards alike. Claims that if they so much as ‘look at you’ the wrong way, he’ll gouge their eyes out with his rusty spoon and shove toilet cleaner down their throats.”

Quivering hands set the folder down on Hugo’s desk, she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. “He made threats on my behalf?”

“Yes, so you can see why we were hesitant to share this with you, not until we collected enough information about your relationship with Jerome Valeska.”

Blue eyes flicker to Hugo. “Collect?” she asked with a glare.

“Precisely. A little over a month ago a guard reported unusual behavior and misconduct from a fellow employee towards an inmate.” Hugo lowered his hands and picked up the manila folder. “We’ve delayed the investigation until there’s enough solid evidence to push everything to court.”

“Court?!” Dr. Quinzel clutched the lanyard around her neck.

“Calm down my dear, there’s no need to worry.” Hugo leaned over his desk and tucked the folder back in with the others. “Hence the sudden transfer, and several others from Arkham to Bradenton Asylum.” Leaning back in his office chair, Hugo looked back to his subordinate. “To avoid liability, you will no longer be his psychologist. His transfer is in three weeks, you’ll not see him, talk to him, or bring him up in conversation with any of the staff. Is that understood?”

With a sinking heart, Dr. Quinzel realized they were sending Jerome clear across the state. She nodded stiffly, “Yes Sir.”

 

* * *

 

Coming back from the dead, what a doozy! But Jerome accepted it gracefully and didn’t question fate. It was mildly annoying to discover some asshole hacksawed his face off. Fortunately, they didn’t cut deep enough for him to bleed out.

He located Dwight easily, that prick had some nerve parading around with his face and acting like Jerome Valeska. Well, what’s a cut off face between friends? At least, that’s what he told Dwight before blowing him sky high with dynamite.

Memories all jumbled.

Jerome had a similar experience like that back at Arkham.

He couldn’t, for the fucking life of him, remember anything about his past life, but for a few faces and names.

Jim Gordon.

Theo Galavan.

Lee Thompkins.

Harleen Quinzel.

Bruce, motherfucking, Wayne.

Yeah, he was going to kill that little rich brat before Theo put a knife into his neck.

Second times a charm! He wouldn’t fail this time around.

 

* * *

 

The hall of mirrors.

Jerome couldn’t stand the sight of his disfigured face, but what’s even more nauseating is the fact that a spoiled, pampered teenager was able creep up on him and knock him off his feet. He wouldn’t necessarily say the kid ‘beat him up’, granted, he got a few lucky punches in there. However, Jerome was tickled with delight at the idea of corrupting Gotham’s purest citizen.

 A white knight, innocent by all standards, taking down the maniac clown for the last time.

Blaze of glory baby! Helluva fucking way to go. Jerome wouldn’t have it any other way.

Perchance, the redhead caught a glimpse of his and Bruce’s reflection. His heart is racing so fast that all he can hear is blood rushing through his ears, whereas Bruce’s screaming was scarcely audible.

A memory, long forgotten, stirred and coiled around inside Jerome’s head. With it, a torrent of memories and emotions flooded Jerome. He jerked underneath Bruce and grabbed the teenager by both of his shoulders, croaking out but one, single, word:

“Miah?”

“Huh?” In state of confusion and panic, Bruce released the mirror shard from his grip. “LET GO!” He jerked his wrists out of Jerome’s hands and bolted for the nearest exit.

Jerome couldn’t handle all the shit that was filling his head right now. He could hear voices, pick up smells, remember pain in his body that was inflicted long ago. No, no, no this wasn’t fucking right! Where was his glorious death?! The redhead grabbed the sharp object from his chest and staggered to his feet. “Brucie darling~” His face barely hanging on by a couple of staples, Jerome sauntered out of the hall of mirrors and pursued Bruce.

Needless to say, his efforts were in vain. The last thing he remembered was Jim’s fist connecting with what little he had left of a face and collapsing to the ground unconscious.

 

* * *

 

Doctors are assholes, each and every one of them. They couldn’t find it in their black souls to put Jerome under or give him something stronger to endure the pain of surgery. Oh well, he kind of liked the pain. They reattached his face with thick stitches this time, and lead bullets were removed from his shoulder and left calve. Everything else was either wrapped up or covered with bandages. Then he was shipped back off to Arkham Asylum.

Yippee.

Actually…. He had some fish to fry and the first person on his shit list was none other then Harleen Quinzel, his previous psychologist.

When Jerome entered the cafeteria, the inmates, guards, and orderlies all gasped in shock.

For a brief moment, the silence was so thick, Jerome could fucking slice it with a knife. He raised one hand above the air and waved, like a royal person would from their chariot. “Hello, hello my adoring fans! It is I, Jerome Valeska, come back from the dead because let’s _face_ it-” Jerome turned a complete circle with a sneer, “-death is overrated.”

Nobody moved.

Nobody said anything.

One of the older inmates, a tall, skinny tree for a man, hobbled forward with his oxygen tank in tow. He’d been at the asylum now for fifty-eight years, and he recalled every single patient that came through the facility for the past five decades.

Jerome raised an eyebrow and lowered his hand when the elderly man approached him, shit, he looked like a walking corpse. “Hey old timer.”

Pausing, the old man trembled from the arthritis in his knees and arms; his fingers were practically bent downward, stuck in a permanent hook shape. He studied Jerome’s face, looking from the fresh surgical stitches on his face, to the abnormally wide gap in his mouth. His voice sounded different, but the elder was certain this was the boy with fiery red hair he’d seen about a decade ago. “King?”

Not THAT again….

Jerome internally groaned, now he remembered who this guy was. He was going senile when Jerome met him, probably nuttier then a coconut by now, but the old man insisted on referring to Jerome as ‘King’. King of what? King of Arkham Asylum? Yeah, that had a nice ring to it. Shrugging, Jerome’s smile stretched from one ear to the other. “Yes, your king has returned.”

Every single inmate raised their hands and loud, wild cheer erupted from their mouths. The whole cafeteria was filled with hundreds of voices all chanting the same mantra:

“King Jerome! King Jerome! King Jerome!”

Jerome’s smile grew, until that thing was ready to crawl into the sides of his scalp. He preferred immortal badass but hey, king would suffice. He laughed in amusement when the guards and orderlies tried to get the crowd under control, but failing miserably. The redhead moved right up to the elderly man and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “Is Hugo Strange still the warden?”

“Oh, no my king. Hugo left a long time ago.” The elder shook his head.

“Aww, that’s a shame.” Jerome was looking forward to cutting his eyes out and shoving them down his throat. “Anyway, who runs this place now?”

It took the older man a few moments to think of an answer. He’s seen thousands of faces, learned thousands of names since he was first admitted to Arkham. He wracked his brain and clicked his tongue, eyes flashing with realization. “Ah! H-her name… Is Harleen Quinzel, I do believe.”

Jerome didn’t react to the news, besides the raise of his eyebrows, well, those actually didn’t move much; the nerve damage he sustained from Dwight cutting into his skin was permanent. Besides controlling the muscles around his mouth, he couldn’t control anything else. His own, fucking, expressions were limited thanks to that creepy wannabe. “Thanks, old timer.” Jerome ignored the chaotic bunch and turned away. He left the cafeteria while the staff tried to maintain order.

 

* * *

 

“What? Why did you WAIT THREE FUCKING DAYS?!” Harleen screamed into the phone.

“S-sorry warden! We thought you knew! The hospital staff insisted they called you.” A man blubbered on the other end of the phone line.

“No, they certainly didn’t, or else I wouldn’t be SCREAMING into the FUCKING phone, DEMANDING AN EXPLANATION!”

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

The light knocking made Harleen freeze and look over to the closed door to her office. “Never mind, it’s over and done with.” She hung up the phone as the voice on the other side tried to apologize. Harleen straightened her posture and cleared her voice, “Ahem. Come in.”

The doorknob turned, followed by the door creaking open slowly.

Harleen gasped.

“Hiya doc~” Jerome Valeska stepped into the office, dawning that familiar black and white striped attire, however, gloves covered his hands now; Dwight’s stupid electricity experiment left both hands scarred, leaving the skin somewhat sensitive. Gloves were stylish anyway.

“Jerome.” Harleen swallowed the nervous lump inside her throat. “I wasn’t aware you were transferred here until now…”

“Really? I thought wardens were supposed to know which patients are entering, and which are _leaving_.” Jerome kept his hands behind his back and nonchalantly strode over to the desk. “Dr. Quinzel…. Wow, you’re a warden now? Who’d you have to sleep with to climb the corporal ladder?”

“Nobody.” Harleen frowned at the accusation, “Hugo was under investigation for illegal experimentation. When the GCPD came for him, he fled and was later apprehended. They needed someone to fill in and the job was offered to me.”

“Illegal experimentation you say?” Jerome cocked his head, “Like the shit they did to me and Jonathan Crane?”

Harleen’s frown tightened and weight crushed her chest. With reluctance, she nodded. “Yes…. exactly like you and Jonathan Crane, among others. He’s brought several people back from the dead, and created new beings from scratch.”

“SCRATCH?!” Jerome cackled loudly, “What are we, fucking cakes and cookies to you now?! The fuck is WRONG with you people?”

“Nothing!” exclaimed Harleen. “I tried to stop Hugo and Miss Peabody from treating you! I didn’t want them to shock you or any other patient for that matter, I swear, it did more harm then good. But it was my vote, against theirs, and against the health board. I’m sorry Jerome, I’m so, so sorry.”  

Jerome looked Harleen up and down, she still dressed like a doctor with that perfect white lab coat of hers and black rimmed glasses, hell, even her hairstyle was the same. He considered the apology and gave a slight shrug, “All water under the bridge Dr. Quinzel.”

“It’s warden now… Or just Harleen, I haven’t treated any patients for a couple of years. I’m just a temp, until they find someone to fill Hugo’s position.”

“Mmm, I see.” Jerome lowered his hands and placed them on the desktop. He leaned forward, eyes focused on Harleen’s frightful gaze. “Warden….. Where the hell is my diary?”

“R-right…..” Harleen slipped her lanyard off and sat down in her office chair. She unlocked a wooden dresser underneath the desk and pulled it open. She reached in, grabbed Jerome’s colorful diary, and raised the book. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Jerome’s voice was flat as he yanked the book out of Harleen’s trembling hand. “Have a good day _warden_.” He turned around and made his way to the door.

“Jerome!” Harleen stepped around the desk and approached the redhead.

Jerome paused and turned around slowly.

“Look….. I’m sorry, about _everything_. I d-did know about the transfer weeks in advance, but Hugo ordered me not to talk to you or else he would've filed a lawsuit for gross misconduct. I could’ve lost my license to practice and…. I would’ve lost you.” Harleen’s voice cracked, she could barely hold herself together.

“You lost me anyway.” Jerome said with a shrug.

“Yes…. I did but you….You came back Jerome.” Harleen dared to raise her head and meet his gaze.

Jerome isn’t smiling. He didn’t have any discernible emotion on his face. Emerald eyes search blue orbs, at one point in time he was memorized by those eyes. He might have trusted Harleen, but now, he wasn’t sure if that trust was based on a false sense of security. Security provided by Hugo’s shock therapy. After that shit show, Theo Galavan destroyed what sense of peace he had left, including the demented fan who electrocuted the hell out of his corpse to usher him back to the land of the living.

Everyone he dared to _love_ , dared to _trust_ , fucked him over in the end. As such, life was a cruel bitch – as Lila Valeska was. That whore of a mother taught him the most important lesson of all: life, and people, will ALWAYS let you down.

“Hm, cheesy sixties music and terrible dancing.” Jerome said.

“What?” Harleen blinked and fidgeted.

“That’s what I remember….. We had fun that day, didn’t we?” Jerome took a step closer and gently cupped Harleen’s chin with his free hand; the other clutched the diary.

“Y-yes, we did.” Harleen’s eyes watered up.

“Aww, sweetheart, don’t cry.” Jerome leaned down and ghosted his lips over hers. “Those eyes are too pretty for tears.”

“J-Jerome…. I missed you, a-and, I’m sorry I didn’t stop Hugo and Peabody.” Harleen was on the verge of an emotional breakdown. The guilt she carried for years after Jerome’s death was overwhelming. She knew she was in love and her biggest regret was never expressing it. “J-Jerome?”

“Yeah?” The redhead remained close, hot breath brushing over Harleen’s mouth.

“I….. I love you.” Harleen almost sobbed the words.

“Oooh, I know babe. I know.” Jerome suddenly closed the gap between their lips and kissed Harleen.

A soft whimper left her as their lips touched. She reached up and pressed a hand on either side of Jerome’s face. She leaned up on her toes to deepen the kiss, eagerly groaning when she felt his tongue slide into her mouth.

Jerome explored that warm mouth, he’d been longing to kiss the doctor for years now. Just as he expected, she tasted like sweets, a lot like the sugary ginseng or Arizona tea she consumed all the time. It was wonderful.

The redhead unexpectedly tilted his head and broke the kiss. He leaned closer, his chest pressing against Harleen’s racing heart. He pressed a light kiss against her earlobe and whispered in a deep, gravelly voice, “Stay out of my way.”

Harleen is confused by the words. She pulled away and looked up at Jerome, “What do you mean?”

Jerome smirked, whirled around on his heels, and stepped out of the office.

 

* * *

 

Arkham Asylum is under siege. Not by the GCPD. Not by the staff. But by an inmate.

One inmate only.

Jerome Valeska was the supreme ruler inside Arkham walls. With his control, there were no more riots, no more deaths, but plenty of beatings. Inmates and staff alike needed to know who was in charge and after being beaten within an inch of their lives, they backed the hell off.

Nobody challenged Jerome’s authority.

Shit, even the GCPD was terrified to take a call from Arkham.

Not a single law enforcement officer wanted to enter that hellhole.

Without the cops backing them up, staff is at their wits end. Everybody except for Harleen Quinzel. She recognizes Jerome’s control and influence as a positive. Their death toll counts are down, less hospitalizations, and no more misconduct reports. They were all getting along, er, for the most part. It was mostly out of fear the inmates listened, as did the staff.

As much as she wanted to speak to Jerome, the redhead was never around. His presence was everywhere she went, but physically speaking, Jerome was a ghost within his own kingdom. Harleen understood why Jerome was angry and she couldn’t blame him. Still, that didn’t stop her from loving him and wanting to see him.

One evening, Harleen is in line at the cafeteria.

“No! You’re wrong! Shakespeare was a wannabe writer who couldn’t spell worth shit!”

“SAYS WHO?! Was you alive back then? Fuck you gotta AT LEAST be a couple hundred years old right?”

“Fuck you! I know my literature you ignorant bastard!”

Harleen, with a few orderlies, look towards the two arguing inmates. One of them is an old man with a walking cane, whereas the other is younger and stocky looking with a beard.

Worried the older man might get hurt, Harleen stepped away from the line and approached the two. “Cease your shouting and arguing please. People are trying to enjoy their meal, they don’t need unnecessary tension.”

The younger man backed away instantly, “Sorry!” He quickly turned and left the other two.

“Hmph! Little cocky prick.” The older man glared at Harleen, he’s taller then her with a shaggy white beard and nearly bald head. “Unnecessary tension? Ignorant thing to say coming from a young whippersnapper like you!”

Harleen raised her hands, “I didn’t mean to offend you Sir. I asked for silence, so the other inmates could enjoy their meal.”

“Silence huh? Oh, oh I see.” He rubbed his chin and nodded. His right hand gripped the handle of his walking cane, “Well….. I GOT YOUR SILENCE RIGHT HERE!” He raised the can above his head.

Harleen shut her eyes and flinched back, attempting to shield her face.

The cane swung through the air.

Only for a gloved hand to catch it and stop it mid-strike.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Old man Sanders, didn’t I tell you the rules?”

Harleen opened her eyes when she recognized the voice. She looked up and saw Jerome standing in front of her.

“O-oh! My king, I uh, I-I’m so scatter brained with my o-old age, I t-tend to forget things.” The elder tugged on his cane, attempting to pry it from Jerome’s vicelike grip.

“Really? You were just arguing about William Shakespeare. Seems like your little brain is working just fine!” Jerome squeezed the handle even tighter.

“I-I’m sorry my king! I beseech you, please, let me be on my way. I-I won’t cause no trouble.” The elder begged.

“Hmm…. I’m in a good mood today, forgiveness and all.” Jerome shrugged, “Okay then. Be on your way Sanders.” Jerome released the walking cane.

“Thank you, my king!” Sanders lowered his cane to the ground and turned away to leave.  

With snake-like precision, Jerome lashed out and grabbed the elderly man by his right arm. Gripping the wrist with his left hand, Jerome punched the elbow upward.

The cane dropped and fell to the floor.

A bone -possibly multiple bones- cracked and broke on impact. Sanders’s arm bent inward at an awkward angle before a painful scream erupted.

Harleen gasped and stumbled backwards in shock.

Jerome let go of Sanders and turned around to grab Harleen by her arm before she tripped over her own feet.

“LET GO!” Harleen tried to pull her arm free and she shoved Jerome against his chest.

Unfazed, and unmoving, Jerome squeezed down tighter and forcibly pulled her out of the cafeteria.

People watched, staff and inmates included, nobody made any attempts to help Sanders or Harleen.

“You broke his arm! You fucking broke that poor old man’s arm!” Harleen’s shoes scraped against the floor while she tried pull away.

Jerome stopped.

Harleen blinked.

The redhead turned around and released her arm. “I’ll have you know, Sanders is a pedophile and rapist. He’s killed twelve boys, all under the age of eleven, and sometimes, he boasts about molesting more. He was a pastor at one point in his life, had a lot, and I mean A LOT of access to underage kids. If it wasn’t for me, that fucker would be dead. A broken arm is a small price to pay for the lives he’s ruined.” Jerome stepped closer to Harleen, “AND, would you have been okay with a broken nose? A punctured eye? That little creep could rip your tongue out and not a single person inside that fucking cafeteria would’ve helped you.”

“N-no, I didn’t know any of that! I haven’t been here that long.” Harleen whimpered, “I didn’t know he was a pedophile or rapist. Thank you for helping me.” Harleen is unaware of the tears gushing out of her eyes.

Jerome sighed impatiently and shook his head. “It’s fine. Just send him to the infirmary and get him a cast.” He watched Harleen and suddenly reached out to cup her face. He leaned in close and nuzzled a kiss against her forehead. “Don’t cry, it wasn’t your fault toots. Just keep to yourself next time, they all know they’re not supposed to lay a hand on you… By the way, you should take tomorrow off.”

Harleen sighed and relaxed against the touch. The gentle kiss soothed her far more then she cared to admit. “Take tomorrow off? Why?”

“Cuz…..” Jerome pulled away and grinned down at the woman, “It’s gonna be raining cats and dogs.” He gave her right cheekbone a playful pinch and backed off.

Before Harleen could question him further, the redhead disappeared down another hallway.

 

* * *

 

_Dear, stupid, diary, and remaining pages,_

_This is the last entry I’ll write. But first, riddle me this._

_What does a hat, a scarecrow, a clown, and a penguin have in common?_

_I’ll wait._

_Hmm….._

_Bet you couldn’t guess that one COULD you Miah?_

_I won’t tell you. You’ll figure it out.... Maybe._

_That's right, I know this diary will end up in your hands eventually. What was it again? There was this one term you used to describe me-AH! Shortsighted! Yeah, that’s the word. I couldn’t plan ahead, I only focused on the present._

_That’s true. I don’t live in the past anymore, and fuck the future. Everyone should live for the present! It’s the now that’s more important._

_Look, I’m not gonna pretend I know why you left, or why you said those fucked up lies about me._

_I think I know._

_Took me over a decade to figure it out, but I THINK I know._

_I’m gonna show the whole world who you really are Miah. You can’t hide forever, soon enough everyone will know who Jeremiah Valeska really is._

_Don’t worry, I kept our secret safe. Only one person knows but hey, she’s good at keeping secrets. If you meet her, please be nice to her – sweet gal, reminds me of Penelope._

_On that final note, I’ll be taking my leave of absence._

_I’m coming for ya little bro~_

_See ya soon,_

_Really,_

_Fucking,_

_Soon._

_-Jay. <3 <3 <3_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first things first. I am SOOO sorry this was a painfully long chapter. I really hated the idea of separating it into two more chapters. There was just SO MANY potholes in the timeline! I wanted to fill as many as I could. ;_;
> 
> Second, let's discuss the Barbara and Jerome scenes. Omg. I loved the brief interactions in Gotham. Babs was a bitch, Jerome was a little shit, I can honestly see them getting into heated verbal (and physical arguments). Low-key thought she was going to be Harley Quinn, until Ecco's introduction. I needed more scenes between the two XD
> 
> Thirdly, Jerome's relationship with Quinzel. If you go by the actual story line, she was a doctor -psychologist- and they don't mention if Ecco was ever one of those things -Maybe they will surprise us in season 5? Hence Harleen's introduction into Jerome's life. Lots of lovely fan art of Jerome Valeska in Arkham with Harleen as his doctor XD Kinda of a sucker for it. I can see her being older then him, not by a lot, just by 4 years or so. 
> 
> Fourth, they never explain why Jerome didn't seize the two opportunities he was outside of Arkham to locate his brother. Thinking back to how Hugo Strange could sculpt and mold new identities for patients -dead or alive- I figured, hey, maybe they did the same thing to Jerome. Who knows? But yeah he had no memory for awhile about his brother, until his encounter with Bruce in the Hall of Mirrors. 
> 
> Fifthly~ I can see Jerome overtaking Arkham during his second visit - the first he was just a wee baby who was learning the ropes of murder. Now that he was back, and a complete, fucking expert, everybody feared him- including his new appearance. 
> 
> The last part, I wanted to include a diary entry. Jerome is smarter then he's letting on -even when his memory was wiped. Overall plan? Expose Jeremiah for the fraud he really is. BAM. End of my rant. And hopefully the end of this piece/story XD
> 
> ((PS. I wrote this in one go. I'll correct mistakes and grammar later as it's really late here XD ))


	4. Equivocator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up during the maze scene, an alternative conversation that could have taken place during the time - including the bits of screen time where we don't see Jerome and Jeremiah.

"[Time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g58pbxh_Exg)" by Hans Zimmer, from the movie Inception, helped set the vibe.

 

* * *

 

“Y-…” Fumbling over his words, Jeremiah found himself blinking rapidly to avoid tearing up. “You killed our mother.”

The overzealous smile remained and for the briefest of seconds, something close to guilt flashes in Jerome’s eyes. It disappeared just as quickly and that inhuman smile grew across his face. The abnormal gap stretched into his cheekbones to reveal his teeth in a beastly manner. “She did deserve it though.” Deep and unhinged, Jerome chuckled as though the validation tickled him with delight. “After that whore hid you away-” He moved closer, his smile fading, “-she gave up on me. _Poisoned_ by your stories.”

A gloved hand shot out and slapped Jeremiah against his chest, making the redhead flinch away.

Jerome slowly advanced on the other male. “ _You_ turned everyone I ever loved against me.” Balling up his fist, he hit his sibling harder against the chest.

The hostile assault had Jeremiah jumping and walking backwards in an attempt to put distance between him and Jerome.

In a gravelly voice, full of suppressed rage and contempt, Jerome growled out the words “MY OWN FLESH AND BLOOD!” He shoved the pistol against his brother’s face.

Jeremiah froze and stared off to the side at the wall, purposely avoiding his brother’s furious expression. He was breathing fast and couldn’t stand still, anxiety had him shifting from one foot to the next.

The nervous mannerisms elicited a dry laugh, “HAHA! Cut the shit. Yer not fooling anyone.” Jerome lowered the gun but kept the barrel pointed at his sibling’s chest.

“Hmm. Very well.” Jeremiah’s voice lost that nervous edge and assumed a monotone. He stopped trembling and met his brother’s gaze without a hint of fear in his eyes. “What do you want Jerome?”

“Ohhhh there’s a lot of things I want from you brother~” Jerome closed the distance between them and he pressed the firearm against Jeremiah’s chest, finger hovering over the trigger. “But I’ll start with the first thing on my list, I wanna know if you smell the same.”

“Excuse me?” Jeremiah was taken back by the remark. He tensed up slightly, feeling the barrel of the gun directly over his heart. He wasn’t afraid of death, it was more or less a nuisance to die at the hands of his sociopath brother.

Amused by the reaction, Jerome leaned against the other and nosed his way along his neck. He inhaled the scent and hummed in satisfaction.

This unusual behavior wasn’t surprising, but what Jeremiah didn’t expect was how his own body would react. First, his neck tingled where Jerome’s hot breath ghosted over. Second, his body heated up, particularly in his face; he wasn’t blushing from embarrassment or anything of the sort. Finally, he impulsively tilted his head to the right and nosed the side of Jerome’s head, inhaling the scent from his vibrant crimson hair. To his astonishment, Jerome still smelled like Haly’s Circus and something else… Formaldehyde or some kind of solvent, the kind used for preserving bodies.

Jerome didn’t miss the gesture and he quickly pulled away with a smirk. He removed his finger from the trigger and lowered the gun, allowing it to dangle loosely from his middle finger. “Next on my list~” The firearm now hung upside down on Jerome’s finger, completely forgotten while gloved hands worked to unfasten Jeremiah’s belt.

“Don’t-” Jeremiah grabbed his brother by the forearms and squeezed, “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” He unbuttoned Jeremiah’s slacks and unzipped him.

“Stop it.”

“Make me~”

“I SAID STOP IT!!!!” Jeremiah shoved Jerome to the left and slammed him into the concrete wall. He grabbed the gun and jerked it out of his brother’s grip, only to fling it several feet away.

“Ohhh, did I hit a nerve _brother_ dear?” Jerome cackled with glee.

Jeremiah’s mouth twitched into a scowl and he kept his left hand positioned against the center of Jerome’s chest to prevent him from moving. With the flick of his right wrist, a mechanism clicked and a small handgun sprung out from underneath the sleeve. He pressed the barrel against the side of his brother’s head.

Jerome seemed unperturbed by the looming threat of death, instead, he giggled and tilted his head forward. Without breaking eye-contact, Jerome pressed his forehead against Jeremiah’s own, “You couldn’t off me then, and you sure as hell can’t do it now.”

“What nonsensical anecdote are you referring to?” The touch and close proximity doesn’t disturb Jeremiah.

“Here’s a hint…. Started off with a cake, and ended with a knife.” Jerome was grinning so big that every pearly white was showing.

“You…. You were awake?” Jeremiah’s expression softened and he appeared genuinely perplexed.

“Uh huh, see, yer not the only one whose good at acting. I picked up a thing or two from watching you. Guess you could say I learned from the best~” Jerome sneered triumphantly and he let his hands snake up Jeremiah’s chest. “You and I we’re the same, see? It goes deeper then just our good looks, we’ve got the same fucked up DNA flowing through our veins. We’re Valeskas, no amount of time and money will change that.”

“Same?” Jeremiah’s voice had a cold edge to it, “We are not the _same_ Jerome.” He shifted his finger over the trigger. “I’ve changed. What I couldn’t do as a child I can do now.”

“Really?” Jerome pretended to gasp, “Sheesh you finally grew a pair huh? Okay then, guess this is _au revior_.”

“You guessed correctly.” What Jeremiah failed to notice was the curled fingers gripping at his suit jacket. Before he could pull the trigger, Jerome suddenly jerked his head out of the gun’s trajectory and he tossed Jeremiah to the floor like a rag doll.

The gun went off and a bullet ricocheted off the cement wall, missing both twins in the process.

A painful grunt left Jeremiah when he hit the floor, the gun bouncing out of his hand. He attempted to roll over and make a grab for it.

Jerome was at his brother’s side in a flash and he kicked Jeremiah in his rib cage as hard as he could.

“GAH!” Jeremiah choked back a cry and turned over onto the opposite side, writhing in pain.

Jerome casually placed his heel against Jeremiah’s shoulder and roughly shoved him down, forcing the other male onto his back. Then, he climbed over his twin and promptly lowered himself against Jeremiah’s waist. He was practically straddling his brother but he made no other movements. He watched the pained expression on Jeremiah’s face, his own lips upturned in a cheery smile. “Ya keep telling yourself that you’re different from me, truth is, we’re identical in _every_ , _single_ , _way_.”

“N-no we’re not,” mumbled Jeremiah.

“Oh yeah, we are. The only difference is, and I can’t STRESS this enough, is that I would never, ever, in a million years, throw someone – I love- to the fucking wolves.”

“That’s because-” Jeremiah exhaled an unstable breath, oh great, Jerome might have broken one of his ribs, “-you were born bad, Jerome. It was bound to happen, sooner or later, people would discover the real you. All the messed up things you did-”

Jerome suddenly leaned over his brother and smacked his hands against the floor on either side of Jeremiah’s head. “WHO STABBED THAT PUNK-ASS JOCK?! WHO TRIED TO BLIND A LITTLE GIRL WITH BLEACH?! WHO ELECTROCUTED THE SHIT OUT OF TEDDY TORRES?! WHO MUTILATED AND POISONED HOUSE PETS?! I GOT THE BLAME FOR EVERYTHING **YOU** DID!”

The redhead nearly screamed his voice hoarse. His face is red, no doubt a result of the rage boiling in his blood. He’s panting loudly and a small bead of sweat traveled down his forehead. It almost looked like he was going to cry.

Almost.

Then, Jerome laughed like a wild hyena. “HAHAHA! I-its funny now that I think-” He gasped between laughter, “- about it. Innocent then and a monster NOW! Hah, the beatings, the public humiliation, the verbal abuse, shit I don’t know how the fuck I survived. But you know what they say….” Jerome focused on Jeremiah’s blank expression, “What doesn’t kill you makes you _stranger_. Am I right?! Hahaha!!!!”

Jeremiah’s heart was beating too fast and too loud, as though the muscle was trying to rip its way out of his chest. He thought he was clever back then, that his timing was perfect and yet somehow, Jerome knew – or discovered it later. Maybe, he drew the conclusion together after Jeremiah’s departure from the circus. It didn’t matter now, neither twin had the ability to change what has already passed. Knowing he’d probably die for this, Jeremiah forced the words out.

“You deserved it.”

Jerome’s laughter died down and he stared at the other, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Why?”

“Your inappropriate feelings towards me. You think you can really love someone who’s your own blood?" Jeremiah glared up at his twin, "I told you _countless_ times that we couldn’t be together. It's karma and you cursed yourself to a life of suffering. I tried to stop you before everything went to shit.”

“Stop me?” The statement was absolutely ridiculous that he almost gave into another hysterical fit of laughter but something else took over.

Anger.

Betrayal.

Loneliness.

Fear.

Pain.

Every awful thing a person could experience flooded through Jerome and he curled his right hand up into a fist. He cranked his arm back.

Jeremiah shut his eyes and prepared himself for a painful strike.

One twin threw his fist down.

The other held his breath.

_Krrrkkkkk!_

Bones cracked on impact.

The only thing is, Jeremiah didn’t feel any pain. His eyes fluttered open in confusion and he noticed Jerome’s extended arm. He turned his head slightly to follow it and saw that his brother punched the cement floor instead of his face. Jerome’s gloved hand was horribly disfigured, he must’ve broken two if not three bones.

“What you did-” Jerome growled.

Jeremiah snapped his attention back to his twin.

“-was _condemn_ me to purgatory.” Jerome lifted his fractured hand and raised it for Jeremiah to see. He popped one of his fingers back into place, a bone-splintering sound followed.

Jeremiah cringed from the unsettling noise.

Jerome smirked and continued with the other broken fingers. “You were good at suppressing your urges, for the most part. I mean, that’s all I was good for, right _brother_?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” lied Jeremiah.

Jerome rolled his hips forward and ground himself against Jeremiah’s groin.

Jeremiah gasped and this time he REALLY tensed up from nervousness. He grabbed Jerome by his hips and tried to stop him.

Jerome halted but he refused to move off his sibling just yet. “Yeah, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” After fixing his hand and wiggling his fingers to test out the movements, he bent over and cupped his Jeremiah’s face.

“Jerome-”

“Shut up and listen,” he snapped.

Jeremiah closed his mouth and gazed into his brother’s bright green eyes. They looked different…. Aged, somehow.

“After they sent me back to Arkham the second time around, I did some serious thinking and realized there was one thing that mattered MOST to me in this life… and that’s family~” Jerome stroked Jeremiah’s cheekbones with his thumbs. The smile he wore mirrored something close to fondness. “Yer the only family I got left, and I’m gonna help ya.”

“What are you…. How do you plan on helping me?” Jeremiah relaxed his grip on his brother’s hips.

Jerome tutted, “Tsk, tsk, I’m not about to give ya any spoilers. Just know that I have the best intentions for you brother~” He pinched Jeremiah’s cheeks.

Jeremiah squirmed, “I’m confused. You said you wanted to kill me.”

“I did? Mmm… Heat of the moment I guess.” Jerome removed his hands and climbed off his brother. He walked over and grabbed Jeremiah’s firearm first as it was closer. Tucking it in a hip holster hidden underneath his white tailcoat, Jerome moved over to his own gun. He picked it up and turned around on his heels, “Get up.”

Trying to ignore the pain in his rib cage, Jeremiah rolled over onto all fours and slowly stood up. “I don’t need anything from an insane person.”

“Awww, are you referring to little ol’ me?” Jerome batted his eyelashes innocently before walking up to his sibling with the pistol pointed at him. “If anyone is insane, it’s you. I mean, look at your erection! Thing is about to burst outta those pants.”

Jeremiah’s eyes narrowed on his approaching twin, refusing to look down and acknowledge the tent underneath his pants. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Mhmm.” Keeping the gun on his sibling, Jerome reached out and grabbed Jeremiah by his tie. He pulled him close, giving that cheeky smile he knew his brother despised so much. “So yer blonde side piece, she ain’t taking care of you huh? Does she help with the voices though?”

“They have medication for that.” Jeremiah spat, not bothering to address the first accusation. He didn’t know much about medication either. He tried it once at Ecco’s urging, only to find that psychoactive drugs didn’t have much of an effect on him. Curious, Jeremiah dared his eyes to travel down to see if Jerome had the same physical reaction as he did.

“Eyes up here buddy.” Jerome tapped the barrel of the gun against Jeremiah’s cheekbone. He had a semi-hard erection himself but paid little attention to it. He had a purpose for visiting Jeremiah…  The conversation proved his point and he’d move forth with his initial plan.

Jeremiah didn’t get a good look before raising his head back up to meet Jerome’s eyes. He could feel cold metal against his cheekbone and he wasn’t all that concerned about it. He had an inkling that Jerome, for all his head games and threats, wasn’t going to murder him like he did Lila and Cicero. Still, he didn’t know what the other had planned for him; it couldn’t be good. “What do you want from me Jerome?”

“Why….to set you free!” Jerome let go of Jeremiah’s tie and took a step back.

“How?”

“I’m gonna drive you _madddd_ ~” purred Jerome.

Jeremiah didn’t say anything.

“But don’t worry,” Jerome added, “You won’t be alone. All of Gotham will be joining ya too.”

Rapid footsteps approached and a familiar voice yelled, “MUST GO! MUST GO! THEY’RE AFTER ME AND THE SCARECROW”

Jeremiah looked over his shoulder to see Jervis Tetch and Scarecrow rounding a corner, seemingly alarmed and running for their lives.

The Valeska brothers turned their heads to follow the running men as they passed right by them.

Jerome looked back at Jeremiah with a shrug, “These guys just don’t give up huh?”

Harvey Bullock’s voice could be heard as he neared the corner, screaming at the top of his lungs to avoid Tetch’s hypnosis.

As soon as Jeremiah heard the GCPD officer, he turned away from his brother and attempted to bolt.

Jerome’s reaction time was faster then that of his twin. He reached out and grabbed Jeremiah by the collar of his suit jacket and yanked him back.

Jeremiah yelped in surprise and he nearly fell backwards, had it not been for Jerome’s arm securely wrapped around his neck. He reached up and gripped Jerome’s arm, eyes wide with panic and fear.

Jim and Harvey race down the hall but they abruptly stopped when Jerome shoved the barrel of his gun against Jeremiah's head.

"GET ANY CLOSER AND I'LL SPLATTER HIM! GONNA SPLATTER BROSKI!" Jerome shifted the gun and pointed it at Jim.

Jim and Harvey retreat behind the safety of a wall. The blonde-haired detective peeked around the corner with his gun drawn. "No you wont, if you wanted him dead you would've killed him already!"

Jeremiah is terrified. He clawed at Jerome's sleeve in an attempt to pry his arm off. 

"Hahaha!" Jerome giggled but stopped short. "He's right..." He looked at Jeremiah. "See you soon~" He pressed a kiss against the side of Jeremiah's head, "MWAH!" Then shoved his sibling forward.

Jeremiah let out a distressed cry. He stumbled onto his hands and knees, just as Jerome started firing off rounds. 

Jerome walked backwards, firing five times. He disappeared around a corner, his maniac laughter echoing through the corridors.

Jim and Harvey pursue Jerome Valeska on foot. However, by the time they get outside the labyrinth, the deranged redhead is long gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I scrapped this chapter at LEAST three times. It was hard to stick to a dialogue that could flow easily. Really, the possibilities are endless! In the end I was satisfied with this, but I may go in and do some edits or additions later.
> 
> I threw in a movie reference, including a mystery reference that will take place in 'Young Blood'. 
> 
> Rowenaaine, another nod to your current story - Took some digging to find that particular detail xD


End file.
